


A Friend In the Dark

by A_Renegade_Heart



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Eventual Romance, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-01
Updated: 2017-03-06
Packaged: 2018-05-30 11:46:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 32
Words: 163,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6422590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Renegade_Heart/pseuds/A_Renegade_Heart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Juliet “Jules” Hayes wasn’t ready to face her old life. She’s not ready for a trial, she wasn’t ready for what might be a stalker and she wasn’t ready for the supernatural. But she has learned painfully that life doesn’t care what she’s ready for or what she wants. She can either get back up or stay down. Jules survived 3 years of some of the worst humanity can offer. She can handle werewolves.  S3, StilesxOC . Warnings inside. Season 3a complete.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tattoo

** A Friend in the Dark **

**Juliet “Jules” Hayes wasn’t ready to face her old life. She’s not ready for a trial, she wasn’t ready for what might be a stalker and she wasn’t ready for the supernatural. But she has learned painfully that life doesn’t care what she’s ready for or what she wants. She can either get back up or stay down. Jules survived 3 years of some of the worst humanity can offer. She can handle werewolves.  S3, StilesxOC . Warnings inside. Season 3a complete.**

Juliet “Jules” Hayes Face Claim – Ashley Benson

**Drama, friendship, romance and some angst.**

**Warnings: This story will often indirectly reference things that have happened to Jules who was a victim of human trafficking. Chapters where this topic and closely connected ones are openly discussed and referenced will have a warning. ANYONE TRIGGERED BY ALLUSIONS TO OR DIRECT MENTIONS OF THIS SUBJECT MATTER SHOULD NOT READ. There will also be references directly, or indirectly to drugs and addiction. Of course this is still a Teen Wolf fan fiction and that is all very important but this character’s past still influences her life and subplots. I have done my research on all subject matter but the way I will write one experience is obviously going to conflict with the way someone else deals with these issues.**

**“I would rather walk with a friend in the dark, than alone in the light.”― Helen Keller**

** Chapter One – Tattoo **

* * *

 

Jules watched her reflection in the distorted glass of Lydia Martin’s door. She was make up and curls and new shoes. This was how she was supposed to look. Her hands shook in the pockets of her sweat shirt and she watched herself take strange shapes in the glass as she paced. She almost laughed.

_Jules Hayes, distorted, different._

She wasn’t sure how long she’d been pacing like this, one minute? Five? Ten? It didn’t matter, she’d pace all night if it meant mustering up the courage to speak to Lydia. Jules remembered their last interaction like it had happened moments ago. It was simple, childish, and insignificant. Although Jules learned painfully that nothing never really meant nothing.

* * *

 

_“What are you doing in New York?” Lydia asked again._

_Jules rolled her eyes, “The same thing we do every year, pretend we like our cousins.”_

_Lydia quirked an eyebrow “I thought they didn’t speak to you.”_

_Jules played with the pendant on her necklace, a bat mitzvah gift from her father. She hadn’t taken it off since November. “No that’s my dad’s brother. They hate each other.”_

_“Why?” Lydia asked curiously._

_The other girl shrugged “I don’t know, but-”_

_“Jules!” Natalie called from downstairs. “Your mother is here!”_

_Jules huffed and grabbed her backpack and hopped off of Lydia’s bed. “Bye Lydia.” She chirped._

_Lydia followed Jules to the top of the stairs where she hugged her friend goodbye. “Bring me something back.”_

_Jules shot her friend a devilish green “Why would I do that?”_

_Lydia crossed her arms “Because you’re my best friend you have to, it’s a rule. You have to promise.”_

* * *

 

Jules brought her hand up to her neck. That necklace had been taken from her and most likely pawned. Not that she couldn’t understand why, it was a Star of David and where she’d gone hadn’t been Holy. Jules slung her backpack off her shoulder and reached inside. She pulled out a keychain from LaGuardia airport. Jules made her older sister Abigail buy it for her six months ago. She twirled the miniature empire state building around her finger. Jules clenched the keychain, the metal point dig into her palm.

_What do I even say? “Hey Lydia it’s me fresh out of Eichen Sanitarium! Sorry I got super kidnapped but I’m back now! No, you can’t ask what happened to me! Why would you do that? So how’s it hanging? I’m decent, been better I guess. Can I come in?”_

Jules stopped pacing. She had to do something, she couldn’t just stand outside in the august air and hope the right words came.

_Maybe I should cry. She might pity me if I cry…_

For a moment Jules debated making herself cry, it wouldn’t be too hard.

_She already pities you moron, well, right now she probably thinks your body is rotting in the East River._

Grim determination took hold of Jules.

_Except you’re not rotting in the East River. You’re here. You’re home._

She took a step closer to the door and raised her fist; she pounded it in the door three times. The stupid keychain still buried in the palm of her hand.

* * *

 

Lydia and Allison heard the knocking before Natalie did. “Mom!” Lydia called. “Door!” She shouted.

“I know!” Natalie yelled back.

Allison looked at the clock, “It’s almost nine, who would it be?”

Lydia shrugged and leaned back on her bed, “You still haven’t said anything about France.”

Allison was about to open her mouth to defend herself when they heard Natalie cry out.

* * *

 

Natalie Martin had been like a second mother to Jules, she knew this, and she knew how it might feel to see her again. But Jules didn’t expect to be so overwhelmed with so many different emotions that the only thing she could manage to say was,

“Hi.”

And Natalie shouted something, maybe a word, Jules wasn’t sure. But in a second she was enveloped in a bone crushing hug and her eyes began to sting. She could feel Natalie crying into her shoulder and running her fingers through her hair. Jules hugged her back just as tightly, the last person she’d held like this other than family had been some random FBI agent. Jules couldn’t remember his face anymore; she’d never seen him again.

There was a clatter of footsteps down the stairs and around the corner into the foyer and then they stopped dead. Jules looked around Natalie’s head as her own tears began to fall. Natalie let go of Jules and the blonde wiped her face. To say Lydia was stunned was an understatement. Lydia Martin who Jules remembered as always so put together, who knew every answer, was at a loss for words. Jules could see her eyes watering and knew she had to say something. She noticed a second girl with Lydia, a pretty brunette but she didn’t matter. Not right now. She held up the keychain.

“I brought something back from New York. You know I can’t break a rule to save my life.” That last part was a lie, an old joke between them. Jules wondered if Lydia remembered what she was supposed to say next.

“Don’t lie; it’s unbecoming of the modern woman.” Her voice was strained, broken.

_Because bratty twelve year olds qualify as modern women._

Lydia attacked her with a hug Jules didn’t hesitate to reciprocate. It took her a moment to realize that not only was she crying but Lydia was to. Jules buried her face in her friends shoulder. She wanted to say something witty, something the Jules Lydia knew would have said to diffuse an emotional situation. The kind of moments that made Jules squirm and wish the planet would open up and swallow her whole. She didn’t feel that way now.  'You don’t know what you have until it’s gone.' Is repeated by grandmothers everywhere. Jules hugged her friend tighter, she knew exactly what she had, but still she noted that hadn’t been worth the pain.

* * *

 

Allison watched as Lydia and this other girl continued to cry. Natalie turned to her.

“Jules Hayes, she went missing a little over three years ago.” She whispered, trying to hold back tears. Allison quickly darted back upstairs to get her things. She could hear voices form downstairs. Allison couldn’t recall Lydia ever telling her about Jules, but maybe that wasn’t the sort of thing one talked about. Allison’s heart beat uncomfortably fast, she didn’t want to think about what might have happened to that girl while she was gone. But she had a sick feeling it was going to keep her up that night. Allison went down the stairs and quietly as she could and saw Natalie lead Jules into the kitchen. Lydia met her at the bottom of the stairs.

“She’s… I’m…” She stuttered out. Allison embraced her best friend.

“Your mom said something, talk tomorrow?” She said softly.

Lydia nodded. A keychain dangled in her fingers.

* * *

 

Jules and Lydia sat right next to each other on the couch in the living room; Natalie was in the kitchen starting some tea.

“When did you get back?” Natalie asked as lightly as she could, as if it Jules had gone on a vacation with a flexible return date to Florida.

Jules leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees, her chin on her fist. “About six months, I spent them in Eichen house, the only people I was allowed to see was my immediate family.” She said calmly. This part she had rehearsed, what she would say, what she would leave out.

Natalie and Lydia looked perturbed. “There was nothing in the papers.” Natalie commented. Lydia shot her mother a dark look.

“Mom wanted to keep it quiet, I was…” She trailed off to choose her next words very carefully. “I was in rough shape. But I am surprised she didn’t say anything to anyone. I don’t know what she was thinking.” Jules admitted. But Charlotte Hayes tended to think with her heart and her heart always said “protect my children before common sense”.

Natalie came and sat across from the girls, Lydia was very quiet. “Well, I don’t know how to say how happy I am to see you.”

Jules smiled slightly, a quick upturn of the lips that was gone as soon as it came.

“When were you discharged?” Lydia asked in a low voice.

“About three hours ago.” Jules said and she cleared her throat, “My room is exactly the same.”

Lydia frowned, “You hated your room.”

Jules leaned to the side and put her head on Lydia’s shoulder, “Exactly.”

Natalie scrunched up her nose, “That terrible shade of green?” She asked, mostly as a reminder for herself. Jules nodded animatedly.

Lydia feigned gagging and for a moment they were silent. Jules who used to live for silence now hated it. She remembered all the days in Eichen house when her family visited and they fell silent after a few minutes, they just didn’t know what to say.

“I’m coming back to school. I had a tutor in Eichen. She decided I’m basically a genius and can tackle junior year.” She tried to sound enthusiastic but Jules had never liked school, she held very firm beliefs that the education system didn’t work. Not to mention no one had said anything about her being a genius. At least she’d be with Lydia and…

“Who’s the brunette?” She changed her own topic of conversation. Lydia smiled.

“Allison.”

Jules nodded, “Alright.Tell me about Allison.”

* * *

 

It was almost eleven when Charlotte came by to pick up her daughter. Natalie let her in while the girls were still talking. She saw Jules and Lydia before they noticed her. They sat cross legged and across from each other on the couch, twin smiles on their faces. Jules was talking about how excited she was to get back to being able to read whatever she wanted. Lydia spotted her before Jules did, she smiled at Charlotte. Charlotte wasn’t paying attention; her eyes were on her daughter. She hadn’t seen her daughter smile like that in three years.

“Honey.” Charlotte said softly, Jules turned. Her face stiffened.

“Hey mom.” She said and got up from the couch. Lydia handed Jules her bag.

“We’ll talk tomorrow.” Lydia said and walked Jules over to her mother in the foyer. Natalie gave Jules one last hug and decided that she should walk Charlotte to her car. The two older women left the house, softly closing the door behind her.

Lydia pulled her friend close. “If you need anything.”

Jules smiled into Lydia’s shoulder, “I’m okay.”

Lydia let go of Jules, “Don’t lie; it’s unbecoming of the modern woman.”

* * *

 

 Jules liked Allison. She had worried about Lydia while she was gone, she could be a bit harsh and that took getting used to. She listened to Lydia grill Allison about her dating habits while she’d been overseas, Lydia had mellowed out. But, Jules smiled to herself, not that much.

“It is not a double date, it is a group thing. Jules is coming.” Lydia said.

At the sound of her name Jules narrowed her eyes, “I am not fifth wheeling your double date.” She complained.

“Group thing.” Lydia corrected.

Allison and Jules rolled their eyes simultaneously.

“Do they know it’s a group thing?” Allison asked. “Cause I told you I’m not ready to get back out there.”

“You were in France and didn’t do any dating? For four months?” Lydia sounded exasperated with her friend.

Allison shrugged, “Did you?” She paused and Lydia’s face fell. “I mean after J-“

“Do not.” Lydia stopped her, “Say his name.”

Jules furrowed her brow.

_Who? What?_

“Is he okay? I mean did everything work out?” Allison pressed.

Lydia glanced at Allison and then to Jules in the back seat. “The doctors looked like total idiots when he turned up okay but, everyone got over it.”

Jules wanted to ask but this didn’t seem like the right time. Allison still looked concerned.

“And yes Derek… coached him.” Lydia said.

_Ah, sports._

Allison smiled, “So then you’ve talked to him.”

Jules leaned forward, this seemed like a good place to butt in. “Talked to whom?”

Lydia looked at the both of them. “Uh, not since he left for London.”

“You mean since his dad moved him to London.” Allison corrected.

Jules watched Lydia, she was hurt by someone, Jules could tell. She felt anger bubble in her chest, who had the audacity to hurt Lydia? 

“Whatever.” Lydia huffed, “He left.” She turned back to Allison, “And seriously, an American teenage boy in London? Like that’s not going to be a disaster.”

Jules studied the girls in the front seats, something passed between them, something unspoken. She frowned; Jules she knew was out of the loop, obviously. But Lydia had been very forthcoming about her life until whatever had happened last winter and spring. There was a door there; a Jules wasn’t going to force her to open it. God knows she was keeping some things shut. Allison however had the knowledge of what happened to keep asking.

“So you’re totally over him?” She asked like she already knew the answer.

“Would I be going on a double date if I wasn’t?” Lydia said a little too quickly.

“To my knowledge people date to get over other people, I believe it’s called moving on.” Jules interjected sardonically. Lydia pursed her lips.

“Thank you Juliet.”

Jules leaned back in the seat, “But what do I know, I still await my Romeo.” She said mockingly, she hated that play. She couldn't fathom the reason her paretns had thought 'Juliet' was a fitting name for their child.

Lydia rolled her eyes, “Those jokes were never and are never going to be funny.”

Allison was laughing. Lydia sighed. “Yes it is a double date. And no don’t worry Jules you’re not coming.”

Jules sighed, “Oh thank god, I’d hate to bear witness.”

Allison looked at Lydia a little disbelieving.

“It’s not an orgy. You’ll live.” Lydia assured.

The three girls continued to discuss the prospects of this double date while a jeep pulled up next to them. Allison’s face fell, she turned to the window.

“Oh my god.” She said.

Jules poked her head between the front seats, “What?”

Lydia jerked her head to the side, “Allison’s ex-boyfriend, passenger seat.” She said quickly. Allison continued to express her surprise while the boy in the driver’s seat waved to them.

“Lydia go! Just go!” Allison pleaded.

“But the light!” Lydia protested. Jules tried not to laugh as the driver of the jeep leaned across his friend and began to unroll his window.

“Hey!” He shouted. And Lydia slammed down on the gas. Jules was forced by the movement against the back seats.

“Screw the law!” She shouted at Lydia, “Just screw it!” Her voice was riddled with sarcasm.

Lydia shot her an annoyed look and Allison was still mortified.

“You alright?” Lydia asked Allison.

Jules was tempted to ask what exactly that boy did to her but she thought better of it. She turned around and watched the jeep stop in the middle of the road. “Uh…” She said.

“Lydia stop. I need to go back; I need to talk to him.” Allison said urgently. Lydia stopped the car.

“They stopped to.” Jules pointed out.

“Why would they stop?” Allison asked.

“Its Stiles and Scott, do you really wanna try applying logic to those to?” Lydia responded. Jules snorted.

“Maybe we should go ba-” Allison started, but she was abruptly interrupted by the sound of shattering glass. The three girls screamed, Jules froze unable to completely comprehend what was happening.

_Deer? What? Is that a deer?_

Lydia and Allison jumped out of the car, Jules stared numbly at the animal as her own door was wrenched open and seat belt unclipped.

“Jules!” Lydia shouted.

Jules didn’t look away from the animal, this was by no means the scariest thing that had ever happened to her but by far one of the oddest.

“Jules!” Lydia’s hand was wrapped around Jules’s arm and pulling her out of the car. She scrambled out of the vehicle. The boys were behind them, asking them if they were okay.

“It came out of nowhere!” Lydia shouted, someone asked her if she was hurt.

Jules put her hands on her hips. “What the actual…”

There was a hand on her shoulder, unfamiliar. She whipped around and was faced with a teenage boy. She jerked away from him and walked to the front of the car.

“Well I am not okay! I am totally freaking out!” Lydia shouted, “Jules are you all right?”

The blonde nodded, glass crunched under her boots. Lydia kept yelling about the deer. The other boy, Allison’s ex, came around the other side of the car. While Lydia commented on the mental state of the deer the boy leaned over it. Jules watched him, half confused and half disgusted.

“No, it was scared.” The boy said.

Jules quirked an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. That was safe to assume. He touched the deer. “Actually, terrified.”

Each teenager turned to look at the dark road ahead, illuminated by the moon. Jules’s fear had worn off into adrenaline, her heart pounded. She backed away from the deer and walked back over to Lydia, she stood close to her friend. Her eyes darted between Allison and the two boys, Scott and Stiles. They didn’t look shocked, just scared. Like this was a mildly terrifying common occurrence. Jules’s throat felt tight. Just what had happened while she was gone?

* * *

 

Jules was up early the next morning. She fell back into her morning routine perfectly, hygiene, hair, makeup, clothes, breakfast. Well, almost perfectly. All of her clothes were things her sister Abigail hadn’t brought with her when she left for UCLA about ten days before and all her makeup was her mothers. Jules didn’t actually remember growing over the time she was gone, she hadn’t been focused on it, but only her old sweaters and jackets fit. Her sister’s left over jeans and shirts were a little too big but they’d have to do. Jules was sure if she did her hair and makeup just right she could pull off attractively disheveled instead of just disheveled. While riffling through her closet she accidently yanked out an FBI sweat shirt. Some agent had given it to her to wear while she waited for her family to fly into New York. Jules tossed the sweater back into her closet; she’d decide what to do with it another time.

In the end almost nothing of what Jules wore was actually her own. Her mother’s t-shirt, jacket, sneakers and her sister’s shorts. Jules tugged on her shoes, Eichen house had supplied her with socks, under wear, some decent sports bras and a pair of sneakers. She looked at herself in the mirror. Her mother’s t-shirt hung loosely around her torso, Jules was mostly lean muscle. If she had it her way she would’ve gained some weight, her meds and stress didn’t care what she wanted. She pulled her hair into a mussed up ponytail and grabbed her backpack. Jules thought about makeup and decided that she dind't care enough to bother with it.

_This is as good as its going to get._

* * *

 

Jules munched happily on some chocolate cereal. Her father came into the kitchen. She tracked his movements; it was the same every morning. Smile at his daughter, make his coffee, and scramble his eggs. Jules knew that she shouldn’t be so attentive, so openly observant. Normal daughters didn’t watch their loving father like hawks while they hummed old rock music and cut up cheese. But Noah Hayes had a large presence in any room he walked into, he was intimidating, loud. And Jules who used to love her father for all these things couldn’t help but be wary of them now. They didn’t talk about it but he knew. And now wherever Noah was Charlotte was never far behind. Charlotte sat down next to her daughter, a piece of toast in one hand and several pill bottles in another. She shook them. Jules nodded, confirming she'd already taken them and her mother put them down. Charlotte glanced at the clock.

“It’s almost time to go.”

Jules nodded and shovelled more cereal into her mouth.

“Hey, easy.” Noah said jokingly.

Jules didn’t look at him, she wanted to. She wanted to smile at her father and joke with him and have father daughter days, like they used to. Jules put her spoon down, her appetite quickly fading. She couldn’t. Jules couldn’t look at him or hug him or be with him and not pretend he didn’t remind her of a very specific unsavoury person. She downed her orange juice and stood up, slinging her backpack onto her shoulder.

“Let’s go.”

* * *

 

Charlotte watched her daughter tap her feet and wring her hands for the entire drive. She knew she shouldn’t ask but she was a mom, she had to.

“Are you sure you’re ready?”

The question posed got the answer Charlotte expected, a steely, stubborn glare.

“Because at any time you know can call me and I will leave work and come and get you.” Charlotte continued, her tone was sharp, authoritative. Charlotte lost her daughter once; she’d do everything in her power to make sure that nothing happened to her again. That she was never hurt again. She’d spent two and a half years trying and failing not to force her fears onto Abigail. The December before, when Abigail was applying to Universities Charlotte hadn’t slept. She’d barely eaten. She’d nearly slipped back into the same depression that destroyed her after Jules had vanished. Charlotte’s eyes flicked back and forth between her daughter and the entrance to the school parking lot. She remembered spending every other week in New York, she alternated with Noah. The private investigators, hounding the NYPD, had all amounted to nothing. Charlotte grabbed her daughter’s hand and gave Jules a soft smile as she stopped the car.

“Be safe, have fun.”

Jules rolled her eyes and dramatically opened the car door, nearly hitting a passing student.

“Hey!” The girl shouted.

Jules unclipped her seat belt and hopped out of the car. The last thing Charlotte heard her say before Jules slammed the door was.

“Relax you’re not dead.” In voice that held a little to much of three years on the east coast.

Charlotte’s phone rang, it was Noah.

“Hey.” She answered, “Just dropped off Jules.”

“Is she alright?” She husband asked.

Charlotte pulled out of the parking lot and stuck her phone on speaker, placing it in the seat beside her.

“She seems fine Noah; she wouldn’t be going if she wasn’t.” She assured. Charlotte heard her husband sigh.

“We know her, we know that she would.”

Charlotte clucked her tongue; this was a conversation she and Noah had had countless times. Charlotte was steadfast in her belief that they didn’t know their daughter. That they’d have to get to know Jules again, as she is now. Noah believed the opposite, he thought that the longer she was home, the more like her old self she’d be.

“I’m not having this conversation in the car.” Charlotte snapped, he knew what she meant.

Noah muttered something, “She’s our daughter, and we know her better then-”

“Then what Noah?” Charlotte snapped, cutting him off. “Herself?” She shook her head, anger bloomed in her chest. “You can’t expect her to be like she was when she was thirteen. She grew up and we didn’t see it!”

“Charlie-” Noah started calmly but Charlotte wasn’t having it.

“Enough! I can’t go to work angry!”

And then she hung up her heart pounding with rage.

_Stubborn, self-righteous asshole._

She seethed.

_Thinks he knows everything._

Charlotte pulled over and leaned on the steering wheel of her car, trying to stay calm. She could feel her eyes burning. This was her marriage now, forever the calm before the storm. All the things they didn’t talk about ping ponging between them, all the things they couldn’t agree on had to stay hidden. She picked up her phone again and dialed Abigail; the one reason divorce had never been an option. Gail had lost her sister, what sort of parents would they be if they hurt her like that?

* * *

 

Jules drew the exact amount of attention she didn’t want. She didn’t want any at all. But her picture had been spread all around the country and in a tiny town like Beacon Hills there wasn’t a person who hadn’t known who she was. Or at least what she looked like and that she went missing.

 _I can take this_.

She said as people’s conversations dropped to whispers as she walked by.

_They don’t know._

She felt anxiety build in her stomach.

_Everybody knows but nobody is going to say anything about it_

Jules clenched and unclenched her fists in rage. It’s taboo what happened to her. They can all guess and speculate but no one is going to say anything. And that’s the problem isn’t it? Jules went straight to guidance. People moved out of her way as she walked. Maybe it was the news headline that was stapled to her name or maybe it was the murderous expression she wore as she darted through the crowds. Something warded them away.

Jules had little time or inclination to deal with a guidance counselor. She didn’t want to talk, she already had a therapist and she didn’t want to be late. Her phone buzzed, it was Lydia.

**_Make it okay?_ **

Jules stood in front of the door to the office and quickly shot a text back.

_**Yep. Guidance stuff.** _

She took a calming breath, knowing that waltzing into a guidance counselor’s office while seething with rage was never a good idea.

“Hi I’m-” She started but stopped when she saw who it was. “Marin?”

“Hi Jules.” She said.

Marin Morell. She worked at Eichen house; she led most of the group 'talk' sessions.

_What the hell is she doing here?_

“I’ve been working here since last spring. I didn’t follow you.” She said calmly, answering Jules's unspoken question.

Jules eased into the chair across from her. “Nice to know you didn’t forget about my paranoia.” She said lightly and snapped her fingers. Jules leaned forward and narrowed her eyes, “Why am I here?”

Marin sighed softly. “It’s a formality, the school is aware of your situation and wants you to know that help is available here if you ever need it.”

Jules scoffed, “At least they’ve provided someone qualified.” She paused, her face softening. “How aware are they?”

Marin held her easy expression. “They have access to your medical records which includes psychological evaluations. And they are also aware you will be absent for some if not much of November.”

Jules slumped back, “At least you’re honest.” She pinched her brow. “But they’re not gonna like make an announcement after we pledge allegiance like ‘Students of Beacon Hills High School please refrain from startling Juliet Hayes as she is a victim of various crimes and would not appreciate it. Thank You.’” She imitated the static voice of the principle. “Cause that would straight up suck.” She said pointedly.

“No they won’t do that, but your teachers are aware that they have to give you a little more leniency than others. The same courtesy is extended to multiple students experiencing struggles.” Marin assured.

“Everyone has struggles.” Jules said darkly, “What you mean is mental illness. And I don’t want courtesy, I want normality.”

Marin nodded, “I understand but I also know that you understand normality isn’t something that you’ll have. You experience and interpret life differently than your class mates, you know this.”

Jules stared out the window at the students trickling into the school.

_They all have stories, everyone._

 Jules turned back to Marin.

“Just your story is particularly sensitive.”

Jules wasn’t aware she had spoken out loud. “Maybe.” She mused. “But I am not.” Jules stated. “The only way I’ll be okay is if I live my life and take my meds. Coincidently, I am doing both.”

“There’s a lot more to being okay then that.” Marin replied, she sounded cryptic. Jules was finished with this conversation and stood up.

“Yeah well it’s a start.” She said in a tired voice. “Can I go?” She asked, Marin opened her mouth. “And yes I know I can come to you with anything whenever I want, I got it.” She said mockingly and headed for the door.

“Actually I was going to say I hope you make some new friends.” Marin said to Jules’s retreating back. The blonde whipped around.

“I have Lydia and Lydia has friends. I’ll come around to them.”

A very strange look passed over Marin’s face, one Jules didn’t recognize.

_When did she start here? Last Spring? Around the same time Lydia becomes very vague._

Jules bit her lip and Marin quirked an eyebrow. Jules rolled her eyes.

_Like she knows anything._

“Thanks Marin but I should get to class.”

And Jules was out the door before anything more could be said.

* * *

 

Jules got to class late. Not “I’m going to get called out by the teacher late” but “Everyone’s already sat down and now they’re staring at me” late. But maybe the staring was because she was missing for as far as they knew three years. That probably actually had more to do with the looks. Lydia shot her a supportive smile and pointed to the seat in front of her. She could hear the whispering.

“I heard she ran away.” One girl said to another. “That they made up she got kidnapped to cover it up.”

“She got hot.” One boy said to his friend as she passed.

“Are you sure that’s her?”

Jules was tempted to turn around and smack him. She exchanged annoyed glances with Lydia and Allison. She loudly dropped her bag next to her future desk but stayed standing. All eyes on her, drawn by the noise and by Jules’s presence in the classroom. She felt sick, like she was on display. She hated that feeling; it was too familiar for her taste. Lydia grabbed and squeezed her hand, Allison nodded.

“Yes I am Jules Hayes and yes I am not dead, no I will not be answering questions at this time.” She said. Mimicking the bored tone of an agent at a press conference she’d watched. Her heart hammered and she wanted to dig herself a hole to die in. But, as expected everyone in the room looked at her as though she’d slapped them in the face and then kicked their puppy and resumed their conversations. Some of them would still be about her, Jules knew that. But now no one dared to look at her. She sat down. That was how she wanted it.

Jules busied herself with getting her books out of her bag while Lydia spoke to the boy next to her, one of the boys from the night before. Jules still wasn’t one hundred percent on which one was Scott and which one was Stiles. Her eyes flicked to Allison fidgeting in her seat. The one behind her was certainly the ex-boyfriend. Jules flipped open her notebook. Jules was fascinated by relationships. The only healthy one she’d ever witnessed was that of her parents, when it came to people’s dating lives she wanted to know everything. She watched with intent blue eyes as Scott stared at the back of Allison’s head and she made a point of only looking in front of her. Jules was desperate to know what had happened between them. She tore her eyes away and chastised herself for not minding her own business. Her phone buzzed, as did everyone else’s in the class. For a moment she panicked. Why could everybody be getting a message at once? What did that mean? Who had their numbers? And then a female voice entered the room reciting the message.

“The offing was barred by a black bank of clouds and the tranquil waterway leading to the utter most ends of the earth, flows somber under an overcast sky, seemed to lead into the heart of an immense darkness.”

Jules’s eyes followed the teacher.

_Heart of Darkness, great. As if my life wasn’t dark enough._

She slouched in her chair and twirled her pen as the teacher continued to talk.

_An inventive way to introduce herself to the class. I’ll give her that._

“This is the last line to the first book we are going to read.” She explained. “It is also” She added, “The last text you will receive in this class. Phones off, everyone.”

Begrudgingly Jules turned off her phone. She hoped that her mother didn’t decide that she needed to assure Jules’s continued survival. She grimaced, not wanting to imagine the panic. Jules watched as her teacher, Mrs. Blake placed books on the desk of each student in the front of the class. On instinct they were passed back. Upon getting her copy she sighed, wrote her name in the front underneath every other name of every other unfortunate student tasked with required reading. But at one name she smiled.

**_Gail Hayes 2008-2009_ **

Jules turned to the first page, excited to inform her sister they had the same book. But after another moment of contemplation she decided against it, Jules was missing for the majority of that year. It wasn't a year Gail needed reminding of.

Jules loved to read. It was one of the few things that no one was able to take from her. No matter where she was or who she was with there was a library and if she was good she got to go there. She got to dress normally and sit and read and pretend she didn’t hate the person with her, with every fiber of her being. She got to pretend that she wasn’t afraid. It was the note taking part that made her angry. She didn’t want to stop and pause and write down relevant information. She wanted to become absorbed in the story. Not the discomfort of her chair, the clicking of a classmate’s pen of the tap of someone’s foot. She furrowed her brow, whoever that was needed to stop. Discretely she turned around and scanned the floor, behind her and to her right was a boy bouncing his knee. Jules brought her eyes up. It was either Scott or Stiles. She watched him, tapping foot, bouncing knee, he twirled his pen in his hand. She shot him a glare, he didn’t notice. Jules sighed and turned back around, drumming her fingers on her desk as she wrote. Jules froze. The entire time she’d been reading she’d been twirling her pen around and shuffling her feet, trying to get comfortable. She sighed.

_I am just as annoying as that guy aren’t I?_

The principal walked in and spoke to Mrs. Blake, she called Allison’s ex-boyfriend up to the front and then out of the room. Jules decided he was Scott. The boy behind her seemed like the kind of person who’d be named Stiles. He must’ve chosen that name himself; no one actually names their child that.

“Hey, Lydia.” He whispered. Jules looked up from her notebook, bored out of her mind and ready not to mind her own business. She turned to see the out of the corner of her eye. He was pointing down at her feet.

“What is that? Is that from the accident?” He asked, obviously and genuinely concerned.

Jules frowned.

_Did Lydia get hurt and not tell me? Should I say something?_

“No, Prada bit me.” She admitted.

Jules turned “Your dog?” She said at the same time as Stiles. Jules glanced back up front to Mrs. Blake who hadn’t noticed her lapse in focus. Lydia glanced back and forth between the two of them.

“No my designer handbag.” She deadpanned.

Neither Stiles nor Jules were amused.

“Yes my dog.” Lydia said in a low voice.

“Has it ever bitten you before?” Stiles asked.

Jules looked at Lydia expectantly, waiting for an answer. The redhead shook her head no. Stiles leaned furthur into the aisle.

“Okay, what if it’s like the same thing as the deer.” He said. Jules cocked her head.

“Mania?” She offered sarcastically. Stiles shot her a glare and continued as Lydia looked back up to them.

“You know how animals start acting weird right before and earthquake or something.” He explained further.

Lydia turned to him, looking annoyed. “Meaning what? There’s going to be an earthquake.”

“Not out of the realm of possibility.” Jules pointed out, now far more interested in what Stiles had to say then her book.

“Or something.” His eyes darted to Jules. “Maybe it means something’s coming.” He paused, looking far too serious. “Something bad.”

Lydia appeared concerned, Jules couldn’t imagine why.

Jules smirked, “Like what? Darkness? Swarms of locusts?” She leaned closer to him and Lydia, “No, no, no. Death of the first born.” She offered sardonically.

“Not biblical plagues.” Stiles huffed.

Jules shrugged, “The end is upon us. There’s like five guys preaching about it on Hollywood Boulevard at any given moment.”

“Yeah, they’re the leading source on when the worlds gonna end.” His voice dripped with sarcasm, she smiled. Jules liked him, he obviously relied more on words then physicality and he didn’t look threatening. Sass she could do without problem, that had gotten her in trouble.

“Ease up on the snark, I have rations.” She said seriously.

“It was a deer and a dog.” Lydia interrupted them, still serious. “What’s that thing you say about threes? Once, twice-”

A bird hit the window, cutting her off. Jules dropped her pen. She knew the saying. She knew it as a quote from a Bond book. She couldn’t remember which.

_Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence._

Mrs. Blake walked towards the windows; Jules felt her pulse pick up and her heart leap into her throat. A swarm of birds dotted the sky, coming closer and closer to the school. They began to hit the windows.

 _Three times is enemy action_.

And then all hell broke loose.

**Author Note: I first of all apologize for any mistakes in spelling or grammar. As much as I edit things do slip past especially when I’ve written and rewritten and reread something so many times. Feedback is greatly appreciated.**

***This chapter was very focused around Jules’s personal life especially her family she will of course become far more involved with the core Teen Wolf plot and characters.**

**Other Face claims**

**Abigail Hayes – Eliza Taylor**

**Charlotte Declan-Hayes – Naomi Watts**

**Noah Hayes – Jeffrey Dean Morgan**


	2. Tattoo II

**Author Note: I'll probably update twice a week, like a bit farther apart then these first two chapters, unless that like these they are both from the same episode.**

** Chapter Two – Tattoo II **

* * *

 

Jules dove onto the floor and scrambled to Lydia, but someone, Stiles was already there. She threw her hands over her head and searched the floor for Allison. The room was chaos, loud, feathery chaos. Jules squeezed her eyes shut; her breath was rapid and shallow. Her fingers dug into her scalp and she pressed herself into the floor. She tasted bile in her mouth and willed herself not to vomit. Jules tried to stay focused on what was happening and not something that had happened. But she couldn’t, no amount of medication or therapy had prepared her for dealing with birds invading her classroom. Jules wasn’t sure what was happening, she stared at her eyelids. Something was flying at her, around her, hitting her. She bit into her lip and tasted blood and then she wasn’t in the classroom anymore.

* * *

 

 

_Everything hurt, she couldn’t move, she could barely breathe. There was a bag over her head and hard plastic digging into her wrists. She was thrown around with the movement of the van. Something fell on top of her, scattering what must have been small boxes everywhere. They hit her and bounced with the jarring driving. She couldn’t see, her breathing was shallow and short, she tasted blood that trickled form her nose. Everything hurt, was someone calling her name? Nobody knew her name, these people didn’t know her. Did they? Jules trashed around. This was wrong she remembered being bound, what was happening?_

* * *

 

“Juliet Shay Hayes!” Lydia shouted. “Look at me Jules. I’m right here. You’re right here.” Her voice softened.

She gasped. The birds were gone. She swallowed blood. Before her were two very concerned green eyes. Jules was clinging to the desk. Lydia’s hands were on her shoulders and Stiles was crouched right next to her. Jules was silent.

_Panic attack? Dissociation? Hallucination? All three?_

While she ran through everything that could have possibly happened she realized that she was in quite a lot of pain. There was a long cut running across the back of her neck and one on her hairline. She’d bitten her lip bloody.

“Birds?” She asked feebly.

Stiles nodded and stood up, Lydia followed. She gazed around the room, terrified. Stiles offered a hand to Jules. She shook her head.

“I think I’ll stay on the ground.” She said under her breath.

_Flashbacks._

She came to the conclusion. She got them, they were triggered. Jules looked around the room; people were stumbling or clambering to their feet surrounded by dead birds.

_Add this to list of things I should avoid._

She was miserable. Jules grabbed Lydia’s hand and she and Stiles helped her to her feet.

“Are you okay?” Jules asked them.

Stiles looked shocked, perhaps at the situation or the question as she was clearly not in a position to be asking people before checking herself. Lydia nodded numbly.

“Are you?” She asked.

Jules became very aware that Stiles was watching her closely, curiously. Jules shrugged, she leaned close to Lydia.

“I am what they psychs call ‘emotionally unprepared for this situation.’” Her voice shook and she tried to play it off as a laugh. Lydia obviously didn’t buy it but said nothing; she only grabbed and held her friend's hand. Jules reached into her pocket and turned her cell phone back on. She could hear sirens.

“The response time here is miraculous.” She stuttered.

Lydia looked sour, “It needs to be.”

Jules wanted to ask what she meant by that but she was having enough trouble getting words out as it was. Now wasn’t the time for questions. Allison turned to them.

“My dad’s already on his way.” She said, she sounded amused.

* * *

 

Within another few minutes the Sheriff, a few parents and some EMT’s had arrived. Allison was pulled aside by her father who Jules skirted away from, dodging an introduction. She spotted the Sheriff. They’d met before, years ago. Charlotte Hayes was a prosecutor for Beacon County, she and the Sheriff had worked together numerous times. Jules mentally kicked herself, she knew Sheriff Stilinski had a son her age; she just had no idea who it was.

“Stiles!” He called.

Stiles turned, “Hey dad.”

The Sheriff spotted Jules and like many others was surprised, he looked her over. He waved over an EMT who seemed more preoccupied with the birds then the injuries. “Take a look at these kids.” He ordered irritably. Jules sat on a desk, Stiles stood next to her. Both of them awkwardly and uncharacteristically quiet. Jules showed no discomfort as the paramedic cleaned and placed bandages over her cuts.

“So your dads the Sheriff.” She observed.

Stiles nodded. “I don’t think he knew you were back.” He said awkwardly.

Jules shrugged, “No one knew.”

Stiles absentmindedly bobbed his head and Jules kicked her feet. Neither of them sure what to say to the other.

_I should say something funny. Like. “We were both attacked by animals at the same place in less than twenty four hours. I expect a change in your relationship status on Facebook.” Or “Sorry for having a non-bird related freak out right in front of you, that must’ve been awkward, my bad!” or maybe “So did your dad discuss theories of my case with you three years ago and do you have way to many opinions on what happened to me?” Or how about-_

“I used to get panic attacks.” Stiles blurted out, effectively ending her train of thought.

“What.” She said flatly and then realized how insensitive that was. “I mean why are you saying this?”

_Oh god, that was worse._

“Cause that’s what just happened, right? To you.” He said, more like he was assuring himself that he didn’t share a piece of private information with a total stranger for no reason.

“Yeah.” Jules said slowly.

_People aren’t supposed to address this stuff, are they? Or at least they don’t._

She stared dumbly at Stiles.

_No brains to mouth filter on this one._

“People don’t point it out.” Jules continued, trying to sound a lot lighter then she felt.

Stiles watched his father, “Guess not.” He spied the Sheriff speaking with Allison’s father. The Sheriff pointed behind him to his son and Mr. Argent looked over at Stiles who dropped his head and looked away. Argent’s eyes lingered for a moment on Stiles before he looked back to the Sheriff. Jules felt her unease grow. Stiles shot his father a look that plainly said, “What the hell?” And then pulled out his phone. Jules knew she should call one or both of her parents but she couldn’t be bothered, she would bet money they were already on their way. And then, like clockwork she heard their voices in the hallway.

Jules dashed out to meet them. Charlotte was already on the verge of tears and Noah look terrified. Jules hated to think it but the look humanized him, made him vulnerable. Her mother pulled her into her arms and tried to smooth the hair that had been yanked out of her ponytail.

_By birds._

The insanity of it all was finally starting to sink in.

_I was attacked by birds._

Charlotte pulled back and examined her daughter’s face, “Are you hurt?”

Jules wanted to point out that was a stupid question, she was covered in blood and a bandage. “Nothing that won’t heal in a few days.” Jules assured. Noah, out of protective paternal instinct put his hand on her shoulder. It took everything Jules had not to pull away, not to flinch. In fact she managed to pull off a small smile. But it faded fast when she noticed the distance between her parents. Charlotte and Noah Hayes who usually stood shoulder to shoulder, hand in hand, were a solid foot apart. And that’s not the first time Jules had seen this. As her mother fussed some more Lydia and Allison came out of the classroom.

“Jules.” Allison said.

She turned around and Allison handed Jules her backpack and books. “Thanks. Are you alright?”

Allison nodded. Charlotte’s phone rang, she stepped away to answer it. Allison’s father left the classroom. Noah, who made it his personal mission to introduce himself to every parent of every person his children so much as looked at jumped at the chance to do so.

“Hi, Noah Hayes.”

They shook hands and Jules stepped back from them, deciding that this was one of her many personal nightmares.

“Chris Argent.” He said. “Hayes… where do I know that name?”

Jules exchanged panicked glances with the girls and her father who answered. “My wife’s a prominent lawyer in this part of the state. Maybe in the paper.”

Chris seemed satisfied with the answer but not convinced, his eyes darted to her. Jules looked away from him and occupied herself with putting her things back into her bag. Stiles raced out of the room, trying to collect his things as he went. Jules let a smile play at her lips; she’d been right about him, physically awkward. Jules heard Allison and Lydia bid goodbye and Chris went back into the classroom. Jules waved them away as she zipped up her bag.

“Dad what time is it? I think I have math next.”

Noah shook his head, “School can wait until tomorrow.” He looked over at his wife who was hanging up the phone. “Right Charlie?”

Charlotte’s blonde head whipped around at the sound of her nick name. “What?” She sounded distracted. “Do what your father says.”

Noah looked smug. Every cell in Jules’s body screamed for her not to look him in the eye, after losing her grip during the attack Jules was furious. What had happened to her already ruled most of her life, not ruled, ruined. She looked back and forth between her parents, how they must have barely held it together.

_I never thought about what might happen to you._

“Fine.” She said stubbornly, raising her eyes to meet her fathers, he towered over her. She wanted to back away. “But I want to stop for pizza.”

* * *

 

It turned out that only attending one class and then going home meant a very productive day. Jules purged her closet of what she didn’t want or what didn’t fit. She decided to keep the FBI sweat shirt, like it or not it meant something. When she had gotten it she hadn’t known what was happening. Who was where, who knew what, whether or not she’d be charged with anything. The sweater had been one small comfort after constant horror. That didn’t mean she’d wear it ever again. Jules resolved to leave her room as it was, childish and unappealing until after November, until after the trial. After that, one way or another, her ordeal would be behind her. The only thing she’d have left were the scars. She had plenty of those. Her phone buzzed. Jules padded across the room to get it.

**_At Allison’s. Join us?_ **

Jules sighed and checked the time.

**_Can’t. See you tomorrow._ **

She waited a moment for Lydia to reply.

**_Okay, love you :)_ **

Jules smiled. She had worried she was too different of a person now for she and Lydia to reconnect. But that hadn’t happened. And perhaps Lydia was hiding something, but so was Jules, everyone is.

**_Love you to._ **

* * *

 

Jules lay sprawled on her psychiatrists couch. Watching Erin pour water into her glass. “It’s half full. That’s the answer you want to hear.” Jules deadpanned.

“I’ve already psychoanalyzed you. I didn’t need water to do it.” She quipped.

“Honesty’s brutal knife strikes again.” Jules said dramatically.

“How was your first day?” Erin asked.

Jules had stopped being surprised at Erin being rather curt. She liked it better that way; she liked having at least one person who didn’t dance around her. Who didn’t think she was a flashback and a bad day away from falling apart. It was comforting that someone knew she was stronger than that, someone knew what she was capable of surviving.

“It might have been better if Mother Nature herself wasn’t trying to screw me.” Jules said in a flat voice.

“I assume you’re referring to the incidents with the deer and the birds?” Erin clarified.

Jules clucked her tongue, “Those’d be the ones.”

“Anything you want to talk about?” Erin asked softly.

_I am a terrible daughter. Thoughts?_

Instead she said nothing, but her eyes fell away from Erin and went to the window. Erin’s home office was on the outskirts of town, surrounded by woods. Jules found the forest relaxing, a change from the east coast cities she’d grown used to. It was quiet in Beacon Hills; it was a good place to rest, to heal.

“How did it feel to go out of your comfort zone?” Erin asked her, Jules rolled her eyes and felt her heartbeat rise.

_Were you under the impression I have a comfort zone? Maybe if I shed my skin like a goddamn lizard I’ll find it._

“I didn’t like the looks.” Jules said in a low voice, her eyes dark. “I know they know what happened to me. But everyone is going to pretend it was something else. They want to pretend that I’m like them.”

“But do you want to pretend?” Erin’s voice was warm, caring. It was exactly the way to get Jules to open up.

“Do I want to pretend nothing had happened to me? Do I want to pretend I’m just like everybody else? Obviously!” She shouted and jumped to her feet, her building frustration snapped like a wire. “If pretending would make it disappear then I would!” Her hands and voice shook. “But it won’t.” Jules flopped back down onto the couch and ignored the studious gaze of her psychiatrist. “Fake it till you make it doesn’t apply to victims.” Her voice cracked on the last word, she spoke so softly Erin hadn’t heard what Jules had said.  But she had seen the word on the girl’s lips.

“Most victims prefer the term survivor. Why don’t you?” Erin's voice was soft and sweet.

Jules brought her eyes up to meet the other woman's. “I haven’t survived anything until it’s over. And it’s not over until the jury is out.” Her voice was low and steady. Jules was uncertain about a lot of things but that wasn’t one of them. She would tell herself over and over again, 'After the trial it will all be over.' She’d repeat. 'After the trial I can move on.'

And after that a nasty little voice would sound off in her head.

_Move on to what? Who is Juliet Hayes without what was done to her?_

Jules buried her head in her hands and sighed, Erin tracked her movement.

_Who is Juliet Hayes without her pain?_

* * *

 

When Stiles got home his father was already there, this had become common place over the summer. The town was quiet, horrifying deaths and murder was a thing of the past. Stiles knew that was about to change again. The words “Alpha” and “Pack” together wouldn’t mean anything good for them. Stilinski was sat at the kitchen table, case files spread out in front of him. Stiles passed his father and headed upstairs.

“Stiles!” He called. The teenager walked backwards back into the kitchen.

“Yes?”

“You didn’t mention that you knew Juliet Hayes.” He turned to his son and shut a thick file in front of him. “I didn’t know you two were friends.”

Stiles shook his head, “I knew of her. She’s Lydia’s friend.” Stiles corrected his father. “Why?”

The Sheriff tapped the file he’d shut. “When she went missing I contacted the NYPD and asked if they’d keep me updated on the investigation. And they did and I figured that when Juliet was found they’d tell me.” He stood up and strode across the kitchen to the fridge. “So I was thinking, why didn’t they?”

Stiles shrugged and opened the fridge for his father, they pulled out some leftovers. “They weren’t the ones who closed the investigation.” Stiles offered.

The Sheriff nodded, he seemed unnerved. “That isn’t good.”

Stiles started pilling food onto a plate. “No but-”

“Why do I care?” He interrupted his son. Stiles nodded.

“She’s back, case closed. That doesn’t happen often.” He pointed out.

John nodded. “It doesn’t. I just wish I could’ve done more about what happened.”

Stiles froze; he could hear his father talking, but he wasn’t listening. He hadn’t thought about it. He had recognized Jules as soon as he’d seen her but he hadn’t wanted to think about why she was kidnapped or where she had been. Stiles knew where his mind would go, he knew he was right. He thought back to what she’d said earlier.

_“People don’t point it out_ _.”_

She hadn’t just been talking about the panic attacks. And why had he said that? He knew how awkward and uncalled for it was right after he’d spoken and Jules hadn’t even flinched. Like she welcomed the topic, like she had wanted to talk about it.

_She probably does._

“Stiles?”

He snapped back into attention. “What?”

“I asked if you’d taken all the chicken.”

* * *

 

Every session with Erin was exhausting. Jules would come home, eat, and try to head straight to bed. It was hard to find sleep; if she was in bed early enough she might actually be asleep by a reasonable hour. Jules knew there were pills she could take, ones that would drive away the nightmares. She even had a bottle she refused to take from. Jules had trouble explaining her reasoning to her mother. It didn’t even make much sense to her, but sleep was normal, human, nightmares or not she wanted to leave it untainted, untouched. Jules convinced herself she would learn to sleep on her own. Much of her life was ruled by something or someone else. Where she was, who she was with and what she was doing, didn’t depend solely on her. How she slept did. And she liked that. She liked the control. But as usual when her mind wasn’t occupied it wandered. Usually, to places she’d rather it not go, her past, years of agonizing fear or her present, the terrifying uncertainty or her impending day in court. Jules had told her story over and over to agents and doctors and family. Did she want to do it again for a room full of strangers? Let them into the most intimate details of her pain so that they could decide right from wrong? How could she bring herself to face the people she despised just so that there was a chance she’d never see them again?

_Because it’s not about you._

Jules rolled over in bed and scratched an itch on her ribs. Her hand brushed a raised scar on her left side. Not a scar, a tattoo. She shuddered and jerked her hand away. She could still feel the sting of the needle and the smell of the room. Jules clutched her pillow and inhaled the scent of the laundry detergent, trying to shove away the memories. She had never been told sounds and smells would stay with her the same way sights would. She wanted to remove that tattoo so badly. She wanted to claw it off of her skin. But Jules wouldn’t, because it would feel so much better to do it after the trial.

_Once it’s over for good. Once I’m really free._

She opened her eyes and rolled over so that she was staring out of her window, out at the woods. Jules smiled to herself and gazed up at the moon. She could see a sky free of light pollution and air traffic, a street that was empty of late night drivers or stumbling drunks.

_I am home._

 


	3. Chaos Rising

** Chapter Three – Chaos Rising **

* * *

 

Jules recounted everything that had happened to her since she’d been discharged from Eichen house. Including the excitement of her first day and the numbing dullness of her second. Gail listened to her sister and hung onto every word. The two spoke almost every day, telling each other about the most arbitrary parts of their lives. The only small talk either of them enjoyed. Jules was glad that her sister finally didn’t want to be serious. She had spent the last six months dodging conversational bullets. Jules didn’t want to burden her older sister with a story that could have been hers. It could have been Gail who was asked to run down to the nearby bodega, it could have been Gail who’d disappeared. Everything that Jules had experienced could have easily been her sister’s story. Both girls knew it, neither of them dared to mention it. Instead they texted jokes and anecdotes throughout the day and chattered over the phone at night. They pretended that there was nothing more they should discuss. They acted like they were just like everyone else. The Hayes sisters. One in the same.

The two girls complained about their respective homework.

“I mean the year is five minutes old, can’t they chill?” Jules groaned. Her biology textbook lay open in front of her. For a second Gail was quiet.

“If you feel like it’s too much you can say something.” Her voice was tentative.

Sometimes Gail slipped. Sometimes Gail forgot she was supposed to act like nothing was wrong. Jules tossed her pen down onto the textbook. Loud enough so that she was sure Gail would hear.

“Don’t mollycoddle me.” Jules snapped.

“That’s my job. I’m your sister.” Gail sounded irritated.

Jules scoffed. “Who doesn’t have that job? That’s who I want to be talking to.” Jules said pointedly. “It’s my shrink’s job to mollycoddle and make me talk about my feelings. They actually get paid to do it.”

“Jules.” Her sister said in a decisive voice. Jules rolled her eyes, sometimes it slipped her mind how alike Charlotte and Gail were. The same calm authority and persistent empathy. Jules’s eyes darted to the clock on her night stand. It was almost ten. Begrudgingly she shut her books. She’d have to go to bed soon if she wanted a decent amount of sleep, no matter how fitful.

“I’m going to bed, Gail. Sleep well.” Jules sighed.

“Goodnight Jules. Love you.” Gail said softly through the phone.

“Ditto.” Jules huffed and hung up the phone.

She ran through her nightly routine before climbing into bed. She could hear her mother shuffling around downstairs. Charlotte was likely preparing for a case and Noah was at the station, waiting for something to catch fire while playing poker with his friends. Jules snorted, her father was terrible at cards. Poker had been the game of family night until Noah had gotten fed up by his giggling daughters taking turns beating him. Charlotte would always win; she didn’t want to change the game to monopoly, which had been just as disastrous. Jules stared out her window and watched the woods; she knew Allison and Lydia were out tonight. Allison needed for some reason, to talk to Scott. Jules sighed, hadn’t Scott hurt her somehow? If he hadn’t they’d still be together wouldn’t they? She rolled over and tried to get comfortable. She had tried to get Allison talking earlier that day but it wasn’t happening.

_Why can’t I be the only one with secrets? That’d be so much easier._

* * *

 

Jules wasn’t early leaving for school the next day which in her mind meant she was late. She charged through milling students in the hallway wanting to get into her first class and get situated, her phone rang. Someone had different ideas. Jules yanked it out of her pocket and sighed.

**_Ben Espinosa_ **

She groaned, the Manhattan District attorney. The man had clearly no concept of her schedule. He tried to contact Jules at the most inconvenient of times. She thought it was strange that he had to call her.

_“You are across the country it is wildly inconvenient, you will answer your phone.”_

Her memory of him saying that was vivid. Begrudgingly she accepted the call and darted into a classroom.

“Hello?”

Five heads whipped around. Jules stared in front of her. Lydia, Allison, Stiles, Scott and an adult man stared blankly at her. Ben was asking her something.

“Just a second!” She snapped at him and backed out of the room, shutting the classroom door behind her.

_That was a tense group._

She pushed her way into the girl’s bathroom, a quiet place and took her call. It turned out Ben didn’t have much to say.

“I’m just confirming that you will be in New York for November third. You are one of the most important people who actually has to show up.” He emphasized.

“I know, I know, ‘star witness’ and prep and all. We’ve already booked a flight. Anything else?” She wasn’t in the mood to deal with him that morning, after not enough sleep and curiosity about whatever strange situation she had walked in on.

“I’ve sent you more prep questions and you know you’re testifying on the sixth.” He reassured.

“No, I’ve completely forgotten, I haven’t been thinking about the trial at all.” Her voice was drenched in sarcasm.

“Thank you Juliet.” He quipped. Ben paused and Jules held the phone away from her ear, ready to hang up. “We’ll win this. The law is on our side.”

Jules smiled slightly but decided to give him attitude anyway, she couldn’t be belligerent on the stand so why not now? “As long as you do your job Espinosa.”

She heard him chuckle.

* * *

 

Finstock slammed a textbook onto his desk. Jules jumped. She hated this man. Not for any reason that might be justified by her past, no. He was just a pain in the ass.

“The stock market.” He said in a loud voice. “Is based on two principles, what are they?”

_Capitalism and corruption._

Scott raised his hand. “Yes McCall, you can go to the bathroom.”

_You’re an asshole._

Scott put his hand down, “No coach, I know the answer.”

Finstock began to laugh.

_I would and could kill you._

“Oh you’re serious.” The coach’s face fell.

_Who let you teach?_

“Yeah it’s risk and reward.” Scott answered.

Jules smirked to herself.

_Thank god you’re right._

“Wow!” Coach began walking towards Scott, who sat just in front of Jules. She felt repulsed. “Who are you? And what have you done to McCall?” He leaned over Scott’s desk; Scott seemed to be enjoying this. “Don’t answer that I like you better.”

_I’d like you better if you shut up._

“Does anybody have a quarter? A quarter?” He asked.

She watched as Stiles dug around in his pocket. She thought for a brief second she might have one in her wallet, which might have been easier to reach. Before Jules could move to get it Stiles’s hand was out of his pocket, along with its contents.  Her eyes followed as a condom went up into the air and then fell onto the floor. She suppressed a laugh.

_That sucks._

“Stilinski, I think you uh, I think you dropped this.” Coach made everything worse by bending down and handing it back to him. “And congratulations.” Jules snorted and then tried to cover it up by coughing. Stiles shot her a glare. She wheezed and doubled over her desk, trying to keep from laughing out loud.

“Risk and reward.” Coach continued like nothing had happened. “Put the quarter in the mug, win the reward.”

Jules got a hold of herself as Finstock was crouched on the ground preparing to throw the coin.

_Why am I in this class?_

To her dismay the coin found its place in the mug.

_Its luck and psychics. I could do that._

The classroom clapped, to keep up appearances so did Jules. Coach picked out students to try and she zoned out of class and flipped through her notebook. Her attention as drawn back when he was right in front of her speaking at Scott.

“But isn’t this chance?” Scott asked.

Jules kept her eyes on her notebook and studied last night’s biology homework, she wasn’t enjoying that course much either. But she agreed that most things were up to chance.

“No, you know your abilities. Your coordination, your focus, past experience, all factors in affecting the outcome.” He explained.

Jules brought her head up, Finstock had caught her interest. She thought over what he had said. This was what she did now, she took everything someone said and thought about it. Jules’s mind went to the trial.

_“They aren’t the only ones on trial, so are you. Anything you’ve done, anything you might be hiding will come out and will affect the credibility of your testimony. You have to tell me everything, you can’t have any secrets. The defense will question the reason you’re testifying. They will question your mental state. And they will question everything about you. So tell me, even the things your doctors don’t know, because they will find out.”_

She had, even the things she’d kept quiet from her family, from her physicians in Eichen house. Because there are some things that can only come up if they have to, some things she had to keep to herself. The insanity of it all boggled Jules. There were grown men somewhere in New York that knew all her secrets, all the things even she didn’t want to think about, they’d get to make her relive. Jules took a breath and forced herself to pay attention.

_Your mind can’t wander if it’s stuck in this class._

Stiles was at the front of the room looking eager. The Sheriff walked in.

_What._

He asked for his son. Stiles looked surprised; this couldn’t be a common occurrence. A hush fell over the room and Jules leaned to the side to get a glance at Scott’s expression. Scott’s eyes followed Stiles and his father out of the room and he stared at the door, eerily focused.

_What, are you trying to listen? You can’t hear them._

Her phone buzzed, it was her father.

**_There’s an APB out on a girl. Heather Lewis, last seen last night. Know anything?_ **

Jules frowned.

**_How would I know anything? I don’t know that girl._ **

Noah didn’t reply and it was rare that he did. He loved to text, but not to text back. Jules drummed her fingers on her desk. Her thoughts darting around in her head.

_How often do people go missing here? How often are they young women? What are the police doing? Why is the Sheriff questioning his son? Does Stiles know something? What does she look like? Why does my dad think it’s a good idea to tell me this? As if I’m not already paranoid._

Jules spent the rest of class growing more and more restless. She fidgeted and doodled and even asked questions. Anything not to think about Heather. When the bell rang she was scrambling out of the room, Heather needed to be found. Jules was going to do some looking.

* * *

 

“I want one.” Lydia said.

Jules looked up from making a fake Facebook account and followed Lydia’s eye line to the twins. To say they were attractive was a bit of an understatement. But Jules didn’t want one. Allison smiled.

“Which one?” She asked eagerly.

Lydia rolled her eyes, “The straight one obviously.” She sipped her coffee. Jules let out a laugh as Danny ran into some guy as he and the not-so-straight one made eye contact.

“Why?” Jules asked. 

_I know why you want the straight one, in case that wasn’t clear._

Lydia quirked and eyebrow.

“Why do you want one?” Jules asked innocently. “No judgement, but I couldn’t see myself being with someone I wasn’t – I guess connected to is the word I’m looking for? Tethered to?” She smacked her hand lightly on the table “Trust, someone I didn’t trust.” She paused and her eyes darkened, no longer focused on Lydia. “Implicitly.” Jules, regretting the obvious implications of that statement quickly changed the subject and looked to Allison. “What are you doing?” She asked as Lydia got up.

Allison didn’t answer and instead grabbed Lydia’s empty coffee cup and examined it.

“Okay.” Jules said breathily, and returned toher own laser focus.

* * *

 

Jules didn’t have a Facebook account; she saw it as a possible distraction and hazard to her personal safety. She had many reasons to hate the internet; the ease of finding someone was one of them. For example, all she had to do was type in Heather’s name and she had access to her entire life, or at least the one Heather posted online. She had turned seventeen the night before; she’d had a party and hadn’t been seen since. Jules could guess that much and from the Sheriff pulling his son out of class. Stiles might have been the last person to see her. Jules felt her heart beat faster as she scrolled through pictures of the party, countless people she didn’t recognize and some she did. Like Scott looking lost in a sea of people and Stiles being led through a dark doorway by a blonde in the background of some girl's picture of herself.

_Everything is online, so horribly convenient._

Jules glanced at the girls profile picture, it was simple, a photo of herself outside, maybe hiking in the woods of her hometown. Blonde hair, blue eyes and a pretty smile. She looked happy. Jules continued to look around her profile; she found her twitter and scrolled through some of Heather’s life. She was happy. Heather played some sports. She was in some clubs and got decent grades and lived in a nice house with a family she portrayed as loving. Jules leaned back in her seat and rubbed her eyes, they watered from nearly an hour of staring at a screen. Heather didn’t run away, at least not on the night of her birthday, not on a night where people would notice she was gone. And from what it looked like, Heather had gone into that basement with Stiles and never came out. Her heart pounded and she could feel irrational rage tugging at her thoughts.

_Did he go upstairs for something and leave her there and someone else went down? Why would he leave her alone? He should’ve thought something could happen. Why didn’t he-_

Jules caught herself. Heather was in her own home at her party with someone she trusted. If something had happened to her someone knew something and she agreed with the Sheriff. That someone must be Stiles and if he wasn’t talking to his dad… Jules looked up to tell Allison she was leaving the library butAllison was gone.

* * *

 

Jules bolted out of the library and scoured the halls; she caught Scott and Stiles outside of the doors, heading to the parking lot.

“Hey!” She called, she could hear the edge in her voice, and she could feel adrenaline begin to course through her veins. But Jules wasn’t afraid of confronting someone in a crowded area, she was afraid of what these boys might say.

_A girl is missing and one of these two losers knows something._

Scott and Stiles turned around. “Hey.” Stiles said. He looked maybe pleased to see her but his face changed. Because Jules was livid. She walked right up to them, close enough that each boy took a step back.

“Heather Lewis. What happened to her?” She asked harshly.

Scott frowned and exchanged a quick look with Stiles, “We don’t know.” He said. Jules narrowed her eyes.

“I’m not asking you.” Her voice was low and her eyes were locked on Stiles. “I know you were the last person to see her.” She took another step; her arms were folded neatly over her chest. She remembered times when she was younger when scaring people was nothing. She could be intimidating when she had to be. Jules hadn’t felt that in a long time. But this wasn’t about her, it was about a missing girl. Stiles raised his eyebrows.

“First of all how, and secondly-” He started but Scott stopped him.

“Yeah he was, why are you asking?” He was calm.

Jules scowled, “People don’t just disappear.” She snapped.

Stiles’s face visibly softened and Jules wished she had picked different words. Now he just thought of her as the lunatic girl who’d been kidnapped and was freaking out. Now she wouldn’t get what she wanted.

“We went downstairs; I went back up to get something.” Stiles said. Jules thought of the condom incident from class earlier and tried not to crack a smile. “I went back down, she was gone.”

"Without a trace?” her words were biting. “So then what? You two just left the party cause you couldn’t get what you wanted?” She spoke solely to Stiles.

“What, no.” He defended himself. “Lydia and Allison showed up and…” Stiles trailed off, remembering something. Jules took a step back from him.

“And what?” She asked and looked to Scott, Scott was watching Stiles intently.

“Her shoes. She had taken them off while we were... she left her shoes downstairs.” He said quietly, his eyes darted to Scott.

Jules couldn’t resist, she smacked him on the shoulder. “A girl just vanishes and you find her shoes and you don’t think that’s weird!? Your father is the Sheriff!” She shouted at him. But Jules figured Stiles already felt terrible that and she hated her words. Her bright blue eyes flicked between two solemn looking boys. “Forget it.” She sighed and her anger drained out of her, taking her energy with her. “Sorry.” She said to Stiles. Jules turned around and headed back towards the school. The day was almost over and this was shaping up to be not so great of a week. She walked quickly but Stiles came up behind her, she turned around and spotted Scott heading for his bike. Stiles handed her a piece of paper with his phone number scrawled on it.

“Tell me if you find anything.” He urged.

Jules stared at the paper and nodded, ashamed of herself. Stiles didn’t do anything; he was worried about this girl and she knew dangerous men when she saw them. Stiles wasn't one of them, neither was Scott. She heard Stiles turn and half walk half run away. Jules pocketed the paper and looked up to watch both the bike and jeep speed away. She herself had biked to school that morning, unlike Scott hers didn’t have a motor but her parents wouldn’t be around to pick her up all of the time. She mentally went through the contents of her backpack and decided she didn’t need anything else. Jules headed for the bike rack. As she walked she watched the roads leading into town. Beacon Hills was safe; Beacon Hills was not a big place. How could someone have taken Heather and not been noticed? She felt anxiety burn in her chest. How much were the people in this town hiding?

* * *

 

Jules ditched her bike at the side of her house and checked the mailbox. She could tell her parents weren’t home by the absence of either car in the driveway. They likely wouldn't be back for hours. Jules flipped through the mail as she walked up her porch. She stopped to dig through her bag and then fumble with the house key. As Jules stepped through the threshold of her home she came across a strange letter and her heart jumped into her throat. It was a plain white envelope, unremarkable. There was no stamp and no return address, not even a delivery address. Just her name. Jules yanked her key out of the door and shut it behind her; she tossed the remainder of the mail on the kitchen table and stared at the envelope in her hands. She thought she knew what this was, a letter from some stupid kid asking her where she’d been, someone to cowardly to do it themselves. But there was a surmounting sense of dread Jules couldn’t ignore. Jules had good instincts, she trusted them and she knew she should just throw the letter away. But curiosity got the better of her and she pushed past her fear and ripped the envelope open. Inside was a piece of paper and printed on it was a collage of advertisements and images. All starring her. She tasted bile and held it down, her vision blurred. She knew where these pictures were from, when they were taken and who had taken them. She was young, just thirteen. These images were all over backdoor ads and websites, her first taste of the horror that was coming for her. Jules sprinted upstairs into her bedroom and slammed her door. Her breathing was hard and heavy and her eyes stung with tears. She raced into her bathroom and vomited, emptying her stomach of its contents, the envelope and paper fell to the floor. Jules wretched a few more times and then rinsed her mouth with mouthwash and splashed her face with water. Someone stuck that letter in her mailbox and knew she would find it before her parents did. She dry heaved again and waited for the pain to pass. Jules could barely form a coherent thought. She bent down to pick up the papers and examined them, there was no note, nothing to indicate motive. Jules leaned on her sink and shook, her hands gripped the ceramic.

_Someone knows._

Jules forced herself to think clearly and she pounded down the stairs into the kitchen and grabbed a plastic Ziploc bag. She stuffed the envelope inside and zipped it into an empty pocket on her backpack. Jules then seized the collage of images that someone could be charged with having and dug through the drawers on her desk for a lighter. She knew she had one. If her room had been left the same for three years there was one in there. She and Gail used to go outside and set off small fireworks to piss off the neighbors. In the bottom drawer on her desk she seized the bright purple lighter and then ran over to her bathroom window and forced it open. The screen was gone; Gail had removed it to sneak out. With shaking hands and watering eyes Jules held out the paper and the lighter. It took four tries to get the lighter to ignite and then she burned the page. She held it until the flame was too close to her fingers then she let the burning paper flutter into her trash can. She held it out the window so the smoke wouldn’t set off the alarm. Jules sobbed as the paper turned to ashes, what was she supposed to do? She slammed the window shut and tossed some random tissues and crumbled paper into the can over the burnt page. Jules slid down the wall and her chest heaved with sobs. She couldn’t go to her parents, the only thing they would do is worry and get angry. But there was no one to get angry at. Whoever had done this was smart. They knew when no one would be home and they knew when Jules would get back and they knew she would check the mail. Jules felt nausea churn her stomach again. They also knew she would destroy the evidence. But why? Shame, fear, disgust? Or a combination of all three running through her blood like a toxin. Jules’s bloodshot eyes flicked to her backpack.

_Not all the evidence._

Jules took deep breaths and tried to assure herself. All this had to be was some kid with poor taste in inappropriate websites who had stumbled across the pictures and decided it would be a good idea to freak her out. Although whoever this is was an idiot. Jules clenched her jaw. If she found out who this was she’d make sure they got hit with a slew of unsavory charges.

_Nothing says “I’m a terrible person” like ending up on the registry for an untasteful and frankly sadistic prank._

Jules nodded. That’s what this was. A stupid kid who’d get what was coming to them. Anyone could guess that Jules would be home first, that didn’t require any high level of thinking. But still she had to do something. Jules wiped her eyes and stood up.

_Tomorrow after school I’ll go to the Sheriff station and give them the envelope. I'll tell them somebody has broken the law and also happens to be an asshole who thinks they’re funny. Here find some prints._

Jules nodded and was satisfied with her plan.

_A prank in bad taste. Nothing more._

* * *

 

Jules spent the rest of that night and the next day switching between hazy anxiety and attentive calm. Flip flopping between being convinced it was a horrible prank or something more sinister. Lydia had asked her for a ride home and Jules had to remind her that she did not have a car or a driver's license. 

“Get a ride home with the hot guy.” Jules suggested as they left the school. “I have errands.”

Lydia rolled her eyes, “What errands? You have errands, Allison has errands. God knows what Scott and Stiles are doing.” She stopped and Jules ran into her. “Did you really corner them in the parking lot yesterday and yell at them?”

Jules blanched.

“Because like thirty people saw you.” Lydia said.

“'Corner' isn’t the right word.” Jules said. “I was simply asking them about Heather. And she is still missing by the way.” Her voice was jittery and quick. Lydia put a soothing hand on Jules’s arm.

“I know. But that isn’t for you to get…” She paused and looked Jules over. She looked like she hadn’t slept; she was running on nervous energy and she hadn’t put any effort into how she looked. Not that it mattered but that wasn’t a good sign. “Worked up. You have to focus on yourself.”

Jules nodded, “I know, I know but I know how terrified that girl must be. She needs to be found, I was just looking into it. Don’t worry about me.” She assured and gave Lydia a lopsided smile and a quick hug. Lydia watched with wary eyes as Jules unlocked her bike and rode away, giving little regard to the people dashing out of her way.

_I spent too long worrying about you. Bad habits don’t disappear as quickly as you did._

* * *

 

The Sheriff station was hectic. Jules didn’t think that out of the ordinary. They had a missing girl, which had to be unheard of in a town like this. They must be doing everything they can to find her, like the NYPD had done for her. Her stomach twisted, why had it taken so long to find her? She looked around the bustling room. Was it places like this that failed her? She saw piles of folders on desks and papers scattered around. Was she just one of those papers? Open cases that only get closed in the pursuit of something bigger? Jules shuddered and headed towards the back, to the office with “Sheriff Stilinski” on the door. She couldn’t think about if or how she’d been failed by law enforcement. She had to trust these people; Jules knew exactly where she’d be without them. She glanced behind her at the chaos.

_Well not them specifically. But in theory, I need these guys._

Jules knocked on the door. There was comfort in the fact that he didn’t know her, the Sheriff couldn't have a real opinion on how she’d behave, on what to expect. All she had to do was talk a bit and then leave. And plead for him not to bring her parents into it.

The Sheriff opened the door.

“Juliet.” He stated confused as to why she was there. He stepped to the side and let her in, leaving the door open.

She closed it. “Jules is fine.” She said nervously, she played with her fingers and looked anywhere but him, suddenly wondering if maybe this was a terrible idea.

“Is this about Heather?” He asked, her head snapped to him. “Because we are doing everything we can.” He assured.

“Heather? No its not. Why would you think I was here about Heather?” She asked a little too quickly.

“Stiles told me you’d been looking into it. He wanted to ask how you knew everything I did. I think you scared him.” He was smiling softly at her, Jules let out a shaky laugh.

“I might have been a little harsh. I searched her Facebook, twitter. And I’m in Stiles’s econ class and I saw you and I figured…” She trailed off, he understood. The Sheriff gestured to the chair in front of his desk. She took it and bounced her feet on the floor. If he noticed the Sheriff didn’t let on.

“How can I help?” He asked.

Jules clenched and unclenched her jaw. She held her backpack on her lap. She hadn’t thought through how she'd start this, she figured being frank would be best.

“You know what happened to me.” Her voice was strangled, she scowled and willed herself to sound stronger than that. “I’m not advertising it but I’m not going to dance around the subject.” She said clearly. He nodded solemnly and Jules continued. She reached into her backpack and pulled out the envelope, still in its bag. She handed it to him. “I got this yesterday. Someone left it in my mail box, inside was…” She wasn’t sure what she should say. Jules didn’t want to get graphic but she needed to get the point across. “Some images someone would be charged for possessing and online ads etcetera. You get the idea.” A dark look passed over the Sheriff’s face. “I burnt the pictures.”

He gave her an odd look, a sympathetic one. “Who else knows?”

“No one.” She said quietly, Jules's eyes watered. “I think this might be some kind of sick prank. Someone who probably committed a felony stumbled across the pictures and thought it would be real neat if I got them." Her voice was raw.

The Sheriff grabbed the bag “And this is the envelope you got them in?”

Jules nodded. “I just really don’t want to bring my mom and dad in. They are – they’ve dealt with enough. Is that possible?”

The Sheriff looked contemplative. “I don’t know.” He finally said. “This isn’t something I’ve had a lot experience with." He admitted. "I think it would be best if they knew.”

Jules leaned forward, “I promise you it wouldn’t. I am not being threatened, I am not afraid." She spoke with strength, determination, persuasion. Not just for him but for her. "I knew this could happen. Once something is online it doesn’t go away. I am prepared to deal with this.”

_I am lying me ass off._

The Sheriff raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think anyone can be prepared for this.”

Jules cocked her head, “Maybe not but I’m more ready then most.” She placed her hands in his desk. “Please, don’t bring my parents into this. It won’t do anyone any good; they already think I’m always on the edge of a nervous breakdown” She tapped the bag. “this won’t help.”

The Sheriff didn’t look convinced. Jules kept going, “You know my father, and he’s like the Sheriff of the firemen right?”

“Sure. You can say that.” He replied. “I know him.”

“Would this do him any good?” Jules asked.

He put the bag beside him, “My concern right now is you.”

“There is very long line of people concerned about me, get in it.” She said flatly, “Or I come back to you if anything weird happens again and maybe you catch a pervert. If he is a moron his prints are all over that thing.” She stated in an even voice. Jules was surprised at herself, but it was easy to be bold with, evidently, both of the Stilinski men. They weren’t threatening people.

He sighed. “I’ll have this examined.” He tapped the envelope and then reached for a piece of paper and scrawled his phone number onto it. “If anything else like this happens call me and I’ll have to open an investigation and inform your parents.”

Jules felt like a weight had been lifted off of her chest.

_He’s not going to tell them._

He handed her the paper and she stuck it in her pocket. When she got home she’d put it into her phone contacts with the other Stilinski. Jules stood up.

“Thank you Sheriff.” She said in a genuine voice.

“It’s not a problem.” He said.

Jules knew it was a problem. This didn’t happen in Beacon Hills. Disappearances, possible perverted stalkers. His town was getting weirder then he must have been equipped to deal with. And Jules didn’t know even a quarter of it. He opened the door for her and she darted through.

“You and Stiles.” He said, she stopped and turned back around. “I think you’d get along.” He said looking at her like he was impressed.

Jules gave him a small smile and didn’t know what to say in response. “Goodnight Sheriff.”

* * *

 

Jules got home and night was falling. Her mother had left a voicemail to her explaining she had to travel out of county and they might not see each other for a few days. Jules sighed and she knew her father would be at the fire station until the next morning. It had been like this before, only Jules had been home alone with Gail. Now she just had an empty house and memories to haunt her. Jules made herself some soup and sat on the porch, a blanket was wrapped around her shoulders. She looked up at the sky, the moon was full and on the rise. She smiled to herself. Despite whatever was happening to or around her at least she could enjoy this. Some moments of calm in the chaos.

**Author Note: The next chapter is going to take place in 3x04 – Unleashed because all of 3x03 – Fireflies takes place in one night and its almost all Supernatural, something that Jules will become very involved in very soon (sorry if this is dragging). And you'll notice that this trial takes place in November which is also when 3b takes place, but not to worry, there's only maybe two or three episodes that Jules won't appear in and she'll instead have to deal with her past which we learn a lot more about in the next chapter. Which I'll probably post on Satuday or Sunday.**

 


	4. Unleashed

**Author Note: It’s my understanding that the events of 3x03 – Fireflies took place on a Friday night. So the next episode would start Monday morning. Just like FYI.**

**Warning: The end of this chapter will directly address some pretty triggering stuff about Jules’s past (sexual assault mention and abuse in general mention) , I will put in a warning before it starts in case anyone just wants to stop reading at that point as it will be at the very end of the chapter.**

** Chapter Four – Unleashed **

* * *

 

Jules was blissfully unaware of the events of the full moon until after the weekend. In fact her entire morning routine on Monday was free of anything terrible until she picked up the paper off the porch on her way out the door. Right on the front page.

**_Is Beacon Hills home to a serial killer?_ **

Jules was baffled. She knew that there were dozens of serial killers active in the United States at any given time. But in Beacon Hills? Preposterous. At least she wanted to think so. Jules spent the entire weekend delving into Heather’s life and stressing over the letter. Anxiety clawed its way into her chest as she read. Three bodies, identical injuries, all in a close time frame. And the Sheriff’s station had no comment at the time. The Sheriff also had no comment on her letter but, Jules shoved the paper into her backpack. The Sheriff was busy.

Jules grabbed her bike from the yard and clipped on her helmet. She watched her sleepy street. It was early, Charlotte and Noah hadn’t mustered the energy to drag themselves out of bed yet. Jules sighed, she had to choose a sport, doctor’s orders. She thought back to her Saturday session with Erin. They’d talked about how Jules needed more outlets for her anger and pain. Jules had told her that she was practicing her old passion of Krav Maga on the punching bag in her basement. Erin thought that might be counterproductive. So Jules had chosen cross country running, mainly because it wasn’t a team sport and she could be in the forest. She climbed onto her bike, she loved the forest. She would take a real jungle over a concrete one any day.

* * *

 

Running as it turned out was not so bad. The whistle blew and there nothing to think about, no game to play, just her feet pounding on the dirt just ahead of the pack of teenagers. Jules knew that wouldn’t last long, she knew she should pace herself but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. For once she enjoyed the way her heart pounded and the buzz in her veins. Like an addict jonesing for a fix, she sprinted around a corner in the trail. Jules was not prepared for what she’d find. She screamed and froze on the spot. Her heart hammered and eyes widened. Jules had seen death but never this reminiscent of a horror film. In a second the rest of the students were there and there were more screams. Jules wanted to tear her eyes away but she couldn’t. The boy was young, not much older than her and caked in blood, still wet.

_Is Beacon Hills home to a serial killer?_

She felt someone appear close at her side and a hand was put on her shoulder. Jules was to numb to react. She felt her stomach flip and she could feel bile rise in the back of her throat. Her breath hitched.

“Don’t look.”

She recognized the voice, it was Stiles. He turned her away, she let him. Jules fell onto her knees into the dirt, the rush of the run drained out of her body. She knew this feeling, the crash from the high right back into cold reality. Scott and another boy ran to Stiles, right past her. She leaned over and sat on the ground, her hand toying with some leaves.

_I can’t believe this. There’s a dead kid right behind me._

Jules willed herself not to turn around; she let dirt slide through her hand. She had seen enough horrible things for one lifetime.

_Why is this happening?_

The question was pitiful but Jules had never stopped asking. It was a constant for her. Like math.

_To solve for why your life is a disaster. Make sure to use ex-cons as a factor in your misery._

She laughed internally at her own math puns and continued to shut out the world.

* * *

 

Jules could hear yelling, adult yelling and Stiles’s voice.

_The Sheriff._

“Do me a favor, go back to school.” He said to his son. Stiles didn’t reply. She heard footsteps behind her and she looked to the side. Stiles crouched next to her.

“We’re gonna go back to the school.” He said in a soft voice.

“I got that Stilinski.” He voice came out harsher then she had intended.

“Do you want some help up?” He sounded so sincere, Jules wanted to hit him again. But the question wasn’t whether she wanted it, but whether or not she needed it. And Jules didn’t trust herself to do it on her own. Not when she could smell the coppery aroma of blood. She nodded and bit down on her lip. Stiles was a stranger, why was he doing this? Why did he care? There was something much more interesting going on. A girl behind her was screaming a name, “Kyle.” Stiles hand was under her arm and she pushed herself off the ground, grateful for the extra support. Her knees and hands stung with pressure from tiny rocks and Jules could feel her calf muscles starting to ache. That was the issue with years of bad footwear; it was hell on her legs.

“Thanks.” She muttered.

“Yeah no problem.” Stiles mumbled, he turned around to see Scott and the other boy, Jules thought now he might be Isaac Lahey, talking.

“Go.” She nodded. “I’m fine.” Stiles looked skeptical. “Seriously.” She said in a breathy voice. “I’m okay!” And Stiles went back to his friends; there was urgency to his movements. She watched him with them. Isaac kept looking back towards the scene and Stiles looked like he was trying to explain something to him.

_He talks with his hands._

She avoided looking behind her as she started walking towards the school.

_I used to do that._

* * *

 

After a fast shower and quick change Jules decided that she was ready for her day. She wasn’t and she really wanted to go home but she could handle school, even if sometimes school involved gruesome death. Jules headed towards her locker to ditch her bags and get her books.

_Everything is fine. It’s not like whenever you blink you see a dead kid. Eventually you’ll get back to seeing things that actually happened to you. The norm of your intrusive trauma._

Her hands were shaking as she twisted her combination into the lock.

_It’s okay. It’s okay. Everything is fine._

She jerked the door open and a folded piece of paper fluttered out. Her heart skipped a beat.

_Well, what the hell?_

She shoved her things into the locker and bent to pick up the note.

**_The police? I didn’t peg you for a coward Lola._ **

Jules didn’t even react; she didn’t know what to think. Once again there was no discernable threat, and unlike the letter, the note was typed. The only thing that stuck out was the use of the name Lola. Lola was the first name she was advertised under. It was the name to the caption of every image and ad she had already received. Angry and sickened Jules shoved the sheet of paper into the back of her locker and let her heartbeat skyrocket. She didn’t even try to calm down. Jules stood in the hallway with her right hand clenched on the locker door seething with rage. Of course this person know which locker was hers, they knew where she lived. Jules yanked what she needed off of the shelves and slammed the door loud enough to draw attention. Her eyes scanned the hallway for someone watching her, waiting for her reaction. She saw no one, but that would have been their goal. The ultimate disguise is being able to hide in plain sight. Jules looked around wildly for security cameras and saw none. She’d heard that the security system from the semester before was deemed “overbearing” and “intrusive”. They’d taken every camera down except for the original ones at the entrances. She slammed her fist on her locker, the sound blended into the nose of the hallway.

_Class._

She thought absently.

_I have to go there._

* * *

 

Jules detested math. She was lucky enough to have a teacher who gave short lessons and long periods for homework. That meant only wasting so much mental energy listening to the subject. Jules needed to focus on something other then what was clearly some kind of stalker. She had few things that she could truly drive all of her focus into and one of them was the murders. But first she started with the town, particularly the time where Lydia and Allison went quiet about their lives. As it turned out Beacon Hills had seen a lot of death since January. Most of them animal attacks and then it was decided they were murders. And the old mystery of the Hale fire was solved. Her stomach twisted at the learning of who was responsible, a “Kate Argent”. A very dead Kate Argent. But the killings hadn’t stopped until late spring, after the death of...

**_Victoria Argent is survived by her husband and daughter._ **

Suicide. Jules’s eyes burned. Allison’s mother had stabbed herself in the heart. Jules knew enough. Terrible things had happened and a lot of people died. One of them being Erica Reyes. She was found at Beacon Hills First National after being missing for almost three months.

**_Her tragic death is unrelated to the three most recent deaths._ **

_Four actually. Four murders._

It was the nature of the deaths that screamed serial killer. All four of them had their throats cut, their heads bashed in and were strangled. It didn’t take Jules long to figure out the significance of how they were killed. Her math teacher walked around her desk.

“Miss Hayes! Please do your homework!” She sounded scandalized.

Jules ignored her request and waited for the women to leave.

**_The threefold death is a method of execution with its roots in Irish folklore. In some lore it is a method of ritualistic sacrifice employed by Celtic mythological druids. Druids in history were philosophers and healers, but very little is known about their practices. It is possible they participated in animal or human sacrifice. Druidism in modern day is a topic of study for some; there are likely cults around the world._ **

Jules went back to her search and double and triple checked other websites. She spent the rest of her class fact finding. The bell rang, jolting her almost out of her seat. Jules was in a cold sweat.

_So a cult. This is cult shit. I’ve heard myths about small towns hiding cults but…_

Her train of thought ended. Cult or not, people were dying. Jules wanted to throw up, this was too much horror for one day and she hadn’t even eaten lunch yet. She put away her laptop and decided that going to her next class, law, wasn’t worth it any way. Jules knew about the law. She needed to find Stiles Stilinski.

* * *

 

Jules watched from behind a corner as Ashley slapped Stiles. She snorted, and ducked away as the Sheriff came out of the office.

“Have you completely lost your mind?” She heard him ask his son. She peaked back around, Stiles dropped his head. “We’ve got four murders Stiles!” The Sheriff pointed to the office. “See those men in there, that’s the FBI!” Jules’s stomach dropped.

_The FBI? Here?_

“They’re pulling together a task force to help because it looks like we’ve got a full blown serial killer on our hands.” He whispered, Jules was straining to hear him. “You get that?”

Stiles was distressed. “Yes dad, I get that.” He snapped.

“Then what are you doing?” He pressed.

Jules felt like an intruder, she shouldn't be listening to this.

“I’m trying to find a pattern.” Stiles stated thoughtfully.

The Sheriff didn’t know how to respond; he just gave an exasperated sigh and walked away. Jules felt sympathy swell in her chest. Stiles was doing everything he could, he probably felt guilty for Heather disappearing. Jules frowned.

 _Heather was likely the first victim_.

She sighed; Jules knew she should leave him alone, that she was the last person he’d want to talk to.

_People are dying, screw his feelings._

She yanked her laptop out of her messenger bag and darted around the corner to him. He still seemed upset. She tapped his shoulder. He whipped around and looked a little shocked to see her.

“I thought you would have gone home.” He said.

Jules shook her head, “I think I found your pattern.”

He pulled her aside, out of the busy hallway and back to the corner she’d been hiding in.

“What?” He said quickly.

She sped through everything she’d learned.

“Druid sacrifices.” He said, not at all surprised.

“Well there are all kinds of magical implications but magic isn’t real so I’m thinking your dads right about the serial killer. But it looks like this is what they're copycatting. I don’t know what one would do with this information…” She trailed off, watching his face. His brown eyes settled on her; she could see gears turning in his head. But what she did notice, what she found rather odd is how he was looking at her. He looked genuinely impressed and a little worried, instead of shocked or disgusted or any of the usual reactions to this information. No one had looked at her like that in a long time.

_What do you know that I don’t? What are you thinking?_

She wanted to scream her questions at him and get an answer. This was too weird not to surprise him and yet it didn’t appear to. Jules was practically shaking.

“Stiles?” She asked, hoping he’d say something that might ease her mind.

“It’s not virgins.” He muttered, likely to himself.

“What’s not virgins?” She asked. He looked at her dead in the eye. She froze, this was more eye contact with a boy then she was used to.

“The first three were virgins, Kyle wasn’t a virgin.” Stiles said, he was gesturing wildly at nothing in particular. Jules furrowed her brow and sat down on the floor, Stiles took a seat next to her. Their shoulders brushed, Jules noted he didn’t notice, or he didn’t care she scooched away.

“Is there any significance of deaths in three’s?” he asked her.

Jules shrugged. “Not that I saw, but not a lot is known about Druids, maybe this guy is improvising a little. Three virgins, cause virgins always get screwed when it comes to sacrifices.” She typed and clicked madly. “Well they aren’t getting screwed that’s the problem.” She could help herself from saying it. Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Hilarious.” He deadpanned. “So maybe it’s three virgins and then three something else?”

Jules looked up at him. “But what? What was special about Kyle?”

Stiles stood up and held his hand out for her. She didn’t take it and put her computer away.

“We’re gonna find out.” He said and started walking.

Jules thought of the class she could still go to. “Whatever.” She sighed and raced after Stiles, wondering what she might have to offer to wherever they were going that he didn’t.

* * *

 

The pair stood in front of Kyle’s locker, examining it. A boy walked up to it and slid something into a clothes pin and began walking away

“Woah, hey Boyd!” Stile stopped him.

Jules eyes flicked to him.

_Vernon Boyd, disappeared with Erica._

“I didn’t know you were back at school.” Stiles said.

_These two are friends?_

“Yeah I would’ve told you but we’re not actually friends.” Boyd sounded a little confused as to why Stiles might be so interested.

_That explains that._

“Oh yeah.” Stiles said, “Hey did you uh” Stiles jerked his thumb towards where she was standing and she moved out of the way of the locker. “Did you know Kyle?”

Jules looked at the paper Boyd had placed on the memorial.

 _ROTC. Yeah they knew each other, use your eyes Stiles_.

“Yeah.” Boyd said. Jules turned around.

“Junior ROTC.” Jules answered for him. “I’m sorry for your loss.” She said in a soft voice and thought of Erica. “Both of them.” Boyd glanced at her and gave her a nod of recognition, or maybe it was thanks.

“So you two were friends then?” Stiles pressed on about Kyle.

“Only had one friend.” Boyd said flatly. “She’s dead to.” He cast the locker another look and then walked away. Jules watched him go.

_“Only had one friend. She’s dead to.” I know the feeling._

“Poor guy.” She said softly, her heart thudded painfully in her chest with the weight of memories she’d rather ignore.

Stiles looked back at the locker then to her. “Yeah.” He sighed. “I’m gonna…” He trailed off and jerked his thumb down the hallway, Jules nodded.

“Yeah, see you.” She muttered.

Stiles turned and went down the hallway. Jules thought back to her earlier research, all the deaths in Beacon Hills before the summer.

“Stiles wait!” She called after him, several heads swiveled to see who was yelling. He stopped.

“Yeah?” He began walking back.

Jules met him in the middle. “What do you know about what happened here last spring?” She asked innocently. His face fell and she could tell he was working to come up with something to say.

“You mean all the animal attacks?” His voice was higher than what was probably normal; he was absentmindedly playing with the strap of his backpack. She watched him do exactly what she would. Fidget.

_What are you hiding?_

“Yeah, this town has seen a lot of loss in a very short span of time. Don’t you think that’s weird?” She questioned.

“Coincidence.” Stiles said quickly.

Jules cocked an eyebrow. “Once something happens enough it’s called a pattern.” She watched him carefully, watching him study her. She wanted to know what he was thinking, about the murders, about the town and even about her.

_Is he trying to figure out what I know? I don’t know anything._

She folded her arms over her chest and stared back at him, her heart beating quicker. “We both know that.” She said in a low voice.

The bell rang and both of them jumped, breaking the tension. She watched as Stiles strode away through the sea of students scrambling to get where they needed to be.

_Why aren’t you scared? Why aren’t you surprised at this in the slightest?_

Jules looked back at Kyle’s locker. She wondered if anything like that had been done for her.

_Be real, probably not._

Jules stared for another moment at the locker; she remembered reading about a break in at the school. Five students were involved. Jules clenched her jaw and found it rather off that Stiles, Lydia and Allison were all quiet about the previous winter and spring. Jules bet that if she asked Scott would be to. Jules had since learned who Jackson was, and she would bet money he was somehow involved to. Jules ran her hands over her face and sighed, she wondered if this was worth thinking about, worth pursuing. She told herself that all she was going to find was teen drama that shouldn’t be dredged to the surface. But there was an ill feeling in her chest warning her away, telling her that she should let this go, because she might not like what she finds.

* * *

 

The next class Jules went to was English. She had seen Stiles talking animatedly to Lydia on her way there. Making her wonder what Lydia knew. She also wondered about Allison and Scott and Isaac. The more she thought about it the more it seemed like everyone was in on something she wasn’t. Hushed conversations, obvious lack of sleep and jumpiness.

_Maybe they’re the cult._

The more plausible answer was that they were a close knit group of friends, one that had developed without her. Jules doodled city skylines on her note book. A group that had developed while she was gone.

One odd thing Jules noticed about her English class is that Allison hadn’t shown up to it, neither had Lydia or Stiles.

_Do they think school is optional or something?_

Her eyes flicked over to Scott and she watched in confusion as he pulled a gear out of his backpack. And then another piece of machinery. Jules’s eyes were drawn to the people he was showing them to, the good looking twins. Aiden took off running. The sound of something that sounded suspiciously like exhaust caught Jules’s attention. She knew it had to be coming from outside but it almost sounded like it was coming from inside the school.

_No._

She pushed down laughter; it was coming from inside the school. She and the rest of her classmates bolted into the hall to see Aiden standing next to a motorcycle. Jules doubled over in a fit of laughter along with a few other people.

_That’s hysterical._

She looked back up to see Isaac, Allison and Scott all standing together looking especially smug. The twins were livid. Jules got a hold of herself and stood back up. Despite the hilariousness of the situation she couldn’t help but feel something else was happening. Her face fell as her eyes darted between the trio and the twins. She was sure of it; something far more sinister had to be a work. She had never seen two teenage boys look so murderous. She thought back to earlier in the woods and her blue eyes fell on Isaac. He wasn’t looking back at the body; he had been looking back at the twins.

* * *

 

By the end of the day Jules was ready to go. The body, the note and her research had exhausted her. There was a lot happening at once, it was overwhelming. Jules walked past the music room as she left the school. She spotted Lydia, Jules pushed the door ajar and then realized Lydia wasn’t alone.

“Each grouping of three would have its own purpose.” A man said. Jules didn’t know him. But he wasn’t the music teacher and Jules had a sinking feeling and an idea of what they were talking about. She crouched down so that she was no longer in view of the people inside the room. “Its own type of power. Virgins, healers, philosophers, warriors…” He went on.

“Wait, wait, wait.” Stiles interrupted.

_Three virgins. Kyle was in ROTC, which would make him a warrior wouldn’t it? Who is this guy?_

“Warrior could that also be like a soldier?” Stiles asked. Her eyes rested for a moment on him, one step ahead of her.

_How can you act like I’m helping you and then know so much more?_

“Absolutely.” The man answered.

_Serial killers tend to insert themselves into investigation and even provide help._

Her heart hammered and she peeked through the crack in the door. Stiles was holding up a photo. She couldn’t see it but guessed it was proof that whoever was missing, likely the music teacher she didn’t know the name of, was a soldier.

“Kyle was in ROTC with Boyd.” Stiles said.

“That’s got to be it.” The man said. Lydia was quiet. “That’s the pattern. Where’s Boyd?” He asked.

“He’s probably at home by now; I’ll try to get him on the phone.” Stiles said.

“Lydia?” The man said. Jules strained to see her friend’s face. “Something wrong?”

“No I was, uh, I mean, I just thought of someone else with a military connection.” She told them.

“Who?” Stiles asked.

Jules frowned when she heard the name, “Mr. Harris.”

She scrambled off of the floor and away from the door and took off in a dead sprint.

* * *

 

Harris’s classroom was empty and she could hear the others coming. The killer was already at the school, they couldn’t have gone far. Jules sprinted down the stairs and into the parking lot. The lot was almost empty and there was no sign of Harris. She knew it was a long shot. Jules heard a loud noise from the school, something akin to a roar. She sighed. This day had been far too strange; she was not going back inside that building. She wasn’t sure she wanted anything to do with it.

* * *

 

**Warning comes into effect now.**

Jules was surprised when two nights later Lydia called her wanting company. She had sounded worried. Jules hadn’t figured out a way to properly address the fact that they were both independently involved with searching for a serial killer. So she hadn’t and Stiles had been avoiding her. Or maybe she had been avoiding him, Jules wasn’t sure. Either way she was happy to go over to Lydia’s. She was happy for the distraction.

“I can’t stay too late.” Jules said as she came into the house. “I have to leave for a cross country meet tomorrow.”

Lydia nodded. “My mom is out; do you have time for a movie or something?” Her voice was small. Jules nodded.

“Yeah for sure.” She followed her friend upstairs. “Are you alright? Do you want me to call Allison, maybe she’s not busy. We could have like a-”

“Allison’s busy.” Lydia cut her off. Jules furrowed her brow.

“Alright. Well I’ve got some movies on my laptop.” She said as they reached the top of the stairs. “Since you clearly don’t want to sit in the living room.”

Lydia ignored her last comment and collapsed down onto her bed. Jules sat next to her opened her computer, waiting for it to start. In the mean time she decided to make conversation.

“What’s up with Stiles? I think he’s avoiding me.” Jules said, wanting to distract Lydia from whatever was bothering her. Whatever was making her seem so world weary.

Lydia huffed, “I think you’re avoiding him.” Jules looked over at her friend and saw a smirk forming on Lydia’s face.

_Oh god, I’ve dug myself a hole._

“Why would you be avoiding Stiles?” Lydia asked suggestively.

_He knows more then he thinks I think he does and it’s freaking me out._

“I’m not, he’s avoiding me.” Jules whished she’d chosen a different topic, she really hadn’t thought this through.

Lydia sat up, “Why would you care if he’s avoiding you?” She pressed.

“I don’t.” Jules said harshly.

“Then why ask?” Lydia pestered. “Does my Jules have a thing for Stiles?” She asked jokingly.

Jules however, was not amused. “It’ll be a while before I have a thing for anyone.” She said darkly. Lydia frowned and looked away from Jules.

_Or at least until anyone is out of their mind enough to want me._

“Right.” Lydia said quietly.

_She forgot how messed up I must be. Not that she knows the half of it._

“Look laptops on!” Jules said cheerfully and typed in her password. Jules then realized that she had forgotten what she was doing last on her laptop. The screen lit up to questions Ben had sent her. Jules clicked away but not before Lydia saw.

“Jules what was that?” Lydia asked flatly. Jules stared at her computer screen.

“Trial prep.” Jules answered honestly.

“I got that. You never mentioned going to trial.” Lydia pressed.

Jules shrugged. “What? Did you think I came back and the whole things over?”

Lydia blanched, “I didn’t know what to think, you weren’t talking, and I didn’t expect you to.”

“Well there’s a trial in New York. I testify in November.” She stated calmly. Jules knew she would have to address this with Lydia eventually and she knew that she could bow out of the conversation but maybe Lydia should know.  What did it matter if she did?

“The people who kidnapped you aren’t pleading guilty?” Lydia asked.

Jules let out a short laughed. “The people who kidnapped me were arrested and convicted for murder two years ago. What they did to me wasn’t connected to their conviction.” Her voice shook.

Lydia stared at her friend with wide knowing eyes, was it the truth she wanted? Did she think she could do something about it? Jules wasn’t sure. “What happened to you?” Lydia’s voice was small but strong.

Jules sighed, “You don’t want to know, you’ll never look me the same way.” She grumbled.

“I don’t want to go on pretending I have no idea what you’ve been through. Cause I have one.” Lydia told Jules.

Jules fell silent for a moment, contemplating what to do next. Once the truth was out there she couldn’t take it back, she couldn’t undo it. But someone else found out and she had no control, this time she did. “No.” She said.

“No? No what?” Lydia asked tentatively.

Jules huffed. “Just no. I mean what do you want to hear? Do you want a disclosure?” her voice was rising with her heartbeat and she got off of the bed. “Do you want me to pour my heart out about all my suffering? Why would you want that?” She sounded desperate. “You don’t want it! I take my pain and I live with it! You don’t want it!” She pounded her fists on the bed and Lydia jumped. Anger coursed through her veins. Jules’s chest heaved as she tried to keep herself from crying. She wished she had kept calm. Lydia walked around to her friend and put her hands on her shoulders. Jules lifted her head to meet Lydia’s eyes. She was out of breath and breaking into a cold sweat, her hands shook.

“Jules talk to me.” Lydia said authoritatively. That was Lydia, persistent, a force to be reckoned with.

“Why?” Her voice broke. “What does that do? Who does that help?” She sounded pitiful.

“It helps you.” Lydia’s voice wavered.

Jules leaned against Lydia’s wall, she looked exhausted. “What do you want me to say?”  She asked as she slid down the wall onto the floor. Lydia sat down across from her.

“You can say anything. I’ll listen.” Her voice shook to.

Jules went very still, her hands tremored as she clenched and unclenched them into fits. “You only know how to fight until to have to do it.” Jules said slowly. “That’s how I felt. I learned Krav Maga and Ju Jitsu and I did everything right and it didn’t matter. Fighting doesn’t matter.”

Lydia moved some of Jules’s hair out of her face. “You can always fight. I think you drilled that into my head.” She reminded Jules of when they were younger.

Jules shook her head. “No, that’s what everyone thinks and then you can’t and they blame you for what happens. I couldn’t do what I was supposed to because it wasn’t what was going to keep me alive!” She shouted pointedly, this was her truth; this was what she knew and believed in with everything she had. “If I was brave I would have ended up dead but I would’ve been brave.” She sounded hollow “If I was brave I would’ve have been able to protect people but I wasn’t! But I didn’t and now I get to listen to some lawyer paint me like a delinquent whore who ran away from home and got caught!” She slammed her fist into the floor. Pain flickered across Jules’s face. Lydia grabbed her friend’s hand.

“They won’t be able to do that.” Lydia said in a forceful tone.

Jules scoffed. “The crimes committed against me are the only ones you have to prove I didn’t condone. Me and my family are going to get slandered and he’ll get painted as someone who tried to help, who ended up a martyr.” Jules spat. She turned her head to Lydia and looked her dead in the eye. “They’re going to pretend he didn’t pimp girls out, that he didn’t beat them, that he didn’t have them raped. He’s the victim and I’m the slut.”

Jules heard Lydia’s sharp intake of breath, she saw the dawn of realization on her face. Jules rolled her eyes, stood up and stepped away from her friend.

“Don’t look so surprised.” Jules said darkly.

Lydia shied away from Jules. “I didn’t want to think…” She trailed off. Jules honestly wasn’t sure what it was Lydia wanted to think. Maybe that’d she had just been locked in some creep’s basement for two and a half years, but no, that’s what happened without all the gory details.

Jules turned her steely gaze to the window and the street outside. “No one does.” She flicked her bright blue eyes back to Lydia. “But I don’t care.” She crouched next to her friend, she was almost menacing. There was a dark look in her eyes that reflected every horrible thing she’d seen and that she could act as soft as she wanted but she wasn’t, she was broken pieces. Jules knew that and she lived with it, she bore it. “I was trafficked and raped and beaten and I did all kinds of shit I’m not proud of.” Her voice shook and her eyes fell away from Lydia. A series of images flashed before Jules.

“Jules.” Lydia reached out her hand, like she wanted to offer comfort, offer help but couldn’t think of anything to say. Jules pulled Lydia off of the floor.

“Is that what you wanted to hear?” Jules asked, her voice cracked. Lydia could see her eyes glass over.

“Is that what you wanted to say?” Lydia asked carefully.

_Who cares what I want?_

Jules pushed the words out of her head. That was part of recovery. What she wanted mattered, what she said mattered, what she did mattered. Jules grabbed Lydia and sunk into her arms, her face was buried in the hair on Lydia’s shoulder. Jules wondered how she could muster the strength it took to ask the questions, and the strength it took to look Jules in the eye and hold her like she was worth holding. Because she was, wasn’t she? She had asked herself if when she got back if she would deserve the life she’d had. Jules still wondered. Hot tears burned her eyes and cheeks. She didn’t know what she wanted to say, if she were being honest she wished she didn’t want to speak at all. Silence for a long time had been easier, had been surviving. What was she supposed to do now that people wanted to hear her speak, when the things she wants to talk about are unspeakable? 

**So next chapter is gonna be a very important one in terms of Jules and the “Pack” but I’d like feedback on this, specifically the last part, which I wrote and rewrote like five different times. Obviously there will be more elaboration on specific events but I didn’t want to just lay everything on the table, cause that wouldn’t make any sense. Anyway, any and all feedback is greatly appreciated :)**


	5. Frayed

** Chapter Five - Frayed **

* * *

 

Jules was in a daze on her way to school the next morning. Her fitful few hours of sleep did her no good. She was irritable, quiet and would rather do anything then get in a school bus and go to a cross country meet. Her eyes fluttered as she leaned against the window of her parent’s car. If she wasn’t so exhausted Jules would have done something to ease their nervous energy. The last time they had sent her off somewhere unfamiliar she hadn’t come back. Jules wasn’t worried, she could take of herself. And she was thankful that it would be a couple days before she had to see Lydia next, maybe not even until Monday. It didn’t take long after her inevitable mini breakdown for Jules to grab her things and bolt.

When the car pulled around the back of the school where other students were milling she spotted Scott and Stiles. Scott looked terrible, possibly even worse than Jules. Jules mumbled goodbye to her parents and grabbed the door handle. It was locked. Panic zipped through her veins and jolted her out of her stupor. She turned to her parents; both of them were looking back at her.

“Are you sure you want to go? No one would blame you if you stayed.” Charlotte said sympathetically.

Jules stared blankly at her mother, far too exhausted to deal with this. Her eyes flicked to her father.

_Might as well hear your thoughts on the subject to._

“We know you didn’t sleep well last night and if this is too much…” Noah trailed off under the hard gaze of his daughter.

Jules shook her bag, it rattled slightly. “I have clothes, money and my meds.” She sounded exasperated. “It’s one night in a decent hotel and I’ll be back late tomorrow. I’m at peace with it.” She stated and narrowed her eyes at her parents. “The only people with problems with it are you.” Jules said in a low voice. She jerked the door handle again and it unlocked automatically. “That’s a new feature.” She muttered. Jules climbed out of the car and slammed the door before her parents said anything else. She felt anger edging at her and she pushed it back. Movement caught her eye, Stiles was walking over to her. Scott stayed where he was, leaning on the wall of the school.

_Maybe I have been avoiding him_.

“Hey.” He said quietly, not having slept well either. His brown eyes flicked to the car that was slowly pulling away. Jules could see her mother staring at him.

“Hi.” Jules avoided his eyes but she could feel him looking at her. As a distraction she rifled through her bag in search of her headphones. “Anything new about the serial killer?” She asked lazily.

_This is an ordinary topic of conversation_.

Jules notice Stiles glance back at Scott. “No, but Harris is missing.” He said in a worried voice.

Jules began untangling the wires. “I know.”

_A warrior_.

Stiles anxiously tapped his foot.

_How can someone have so much energy? On a Thursday at six in the morning, no less._

Jules shivered and tried to ignore the awkward energy surrounding them.

_Why are you talking to me?_

She dove into her bag for her hoodie. The warmest thing she owned was the FBI sweat shirt, and the promise to never wear it was broken. Jules yanked it out and a book tumbled out with it. She sighed but Stiles bent to pick it up.

“Helter Skelter.” He observed.

Jules nodded and dropped her bag on the ground to pull on her sweater. Stiles picked that up off of the ground to. Jules quirked an eyebrow and he handed her back her things.

“Yeah, I live for true crime.” She muttered in a tired voice.

_Read into that Stiles, I dare you._

He nodded, “I’ve read it.”

A whistle blew, Jules jumped and then whipped around to glower at coach Finstock. Stiles shot him an identical expression and rubbed one of his temples.

“If he ends up dead I did it.” Jules spat.

Stiles snorted. “I’ll be sure to write the novel.”

A smile played at Jules’s lips, “I don’t know if I trust you to capture the true essence of my character. I think I’ll just have to write my own autobiography from prison.”

The two began walking side by side to the bus. “You were never caught.” Stiles pointed out.

Jules stepped into the bus, “Did I kill again?” She asked coyly.

Stiles shrugged, “Nobody knows.”

Jules rolled her eyes, “I’m also the Zodiac Killer. Make sure to put that into the epilogue.” Her voice was rough with sleep.

Stiles drummed his hands on the seats of the bus as they waked down the aisle,

“Will do.”

* * *

 

Jules occupied the seat just in front of Stiles and Scott. The two of them seemed lost in their own world. Not that Jules minded. She texted back and forth with Gail and got lost in her music. Everyone so often her eyes would flick up from her phone and she couldn’t help but notice some interesting dynamics. First, Scott looked terrible, originally she thought that he was just as beat tired as everyone else, but no, he looked ill. Secondly, Scott and Stiles’s eyes would look up at Boyd and Isaac every so often. Isaac and Boyd were heavily invested in sending menacing looks in Ethan's direction. Ethan was absorbed in his phone and radiating nervous energy. Jules didn’t like the twins. She didn’t like that they kept to themselves except for Danny and Jules didn’t like that she knew nothing about them. No one just moves to Beacon Hills without reason, so what were they doing here? Jules could ask the same thing about Allison but she didn’t want to. Jules wondered for a moment if Lydia had had any success in seducing Aiden. Thunder cracked outside as a storm brewed. She pulled her knees into her chest and gazed out the window, her sister having just said goodbye. She couldn’t help but feel if she were in a movie, this scene would have a very foreboding score. She moved to get more comfortable and accidentally jerked her earbuds out of her ear. She could hear Stiles's voice.

“It’s completely incongruous that we’re sitting on a bus right now on our way to some stupid cross country meet after what just happened, incongruous.” He said bitterly to Scott.

Jules furrowed her brow.

_Did I miss something? What just happened?_

She thought of Lydia’s jumpiness and anxiety from the night before and Allison being “busy” and Scott’s apparent sickness. He was fine the day before at school.

“Out of place, ridiculous, absurd.” Scott answered.

“Perfect.” She heard Stiles state. “Okay next word, Da-” Stiles continued. Jules put her earbuds back in before she could hear what it was. SAT practice was not something she felt like eavesdropping on. The bus hit a bump and Scott’s hand clenched the top of her seat. She popped up and pulled out one earbud with a sigh.

“Are you okay?” She asked him, earning a surprised look from both boys. “I have painkillers.”

Scott didn’t say anything, instead he just winced. Jules bent down and dug through her bag.

“We shouldn’t have come.” Stiles told Scott. “I knew it we shouldn’t have come.” He sounded very matter-of-fact. If Jules was Scott, she would have snacked him.

“No one likes to hear ‘I told you so’ when they’re hurt Stiles.” Jules chastised. She remembered the endless lecturing she’d received from her parents on the way to the hospital when she’d broken her wrist falling from a tree. She couldn’t hear what Scott said in reply, he had dropped his voice. The next thing she heard was Stiles naming more words from off of his IPad. Jules got back up on her knees on the seat and shook two pills out of a bottle.

“Are those prescription?” Stiles asked her, astonished.

“It’s Tylenol in an old bottle.” She said flatly and held the pills out to Scott. Stiles’s bright eyes darted between her and Scott.

“He’s not gonna take them.” Stiles uttered to her, his eyes flicked worriedly to his friend.

Jules popped the pills back into the bottle and shrugged, “Okay, but someone should tell him he looks terrible.”

Stiles wasn’t looking at her, “I think he knows.”

With a sigh Jules sunk back down into her seat while the two boys kept talking. She fell back into her own world and pulled out her book, ready to absorb herself into a mystery that hadalready been solved.

* * *

 

“Oh my gosh.” Lydia said, sounding equal parts offended and amused. “You’re keeping an eye on them and me.”

Allison looked at her friend. “So there’s nothing going on between you two?” She asked about Aiden.

“I’m appalled by the insinuation.” Lydia defended herself, doing her best to sound repulsed.

Allison smiled. “Nothing?”

“Nothing.” She said. “And,” Lydia added. “You’re here to keep an eye on Scott maybe I’m here to keep an eye on Jules.”

Allison furrowed her brow, “Jules? Why?”

Lydia sighed. “She came over last night and I…” Lydia paused to chose her next words carefully, Jules's secrets were hers and what she had shared belonged to Lydia, not anyone else. “I pushed some buttons I shouldn’t have. She got mad and then upset and then she left. She was furious when she did.” Her voice was small with worry.

Allison frowned, “Furious? Are you sure? At you?” She was disbelieving, Lydia wondered why. There were countless times in the past where Jules had been about ready to throttle Lydia and people noticed. For a second Lydia wondered how different their relationship looked now.

Lydia shook her head, “Not at me.”

Allison’s eyes were set on the road, “Then at what?” She asked like she already knew the answer.

Lydia pursed her lips, “I think in general she’s just pissed off.” Her voice was low and tense; she toyed with the idea of asking Allison if she thought Jules was okay. Lydia thought back to everything Jules had disclosed the night before.

_She has every right to be._

* * *

 

The bus slammed to a stop. Tossing Jules off of her seat and into the space between the bench in front of her and the floor.

“Oh my god.” Jules groaned and pulled herself up. Stiles looked over her seat, eyebrows raised.

“Still alive, don’t worry.” Jules said monotonously. “Why’d we stop?” She asked.

“Crash up ahead.” A girl sitting nearby answered.

Jules rolled her eyes and picked up her book. She might finish it before she was even off the bus. Jules looked up. Scott was standing up, leaning heavily on the seat. She thought she caught sight of a blood stain under his jacket. His eyes were focused ahead, she turned. Her music blared in her ears and she sat up to see Boyd. There was a tap on her shoulder and she turned around before she’d gotten to look at him. It was Stiles. Now that he’d gotten her attention he seemed unsure as to what to do with it.

“How’s the book?” He asked enthusiastically.

“Fine." She said curtly. "Where’s Scott going?” She moved to turn again. Stiles stopped her by placing both hands on her shoulders. She stiffened, her eyes darted to them and then to him. He lifted his hands awkwardly and gestured to the ear buds dangling around her neck.

“What do you listen to?” He asked.

Jules quirked an eyebrow, “Eastern European folk music.” She deadpanned.

Stiles’s eyes were flicking from her to whatever was happening at the front of the bus. Jules was growing more and more frustrated with him. He didn’t even sass her back. She was about to comment when her phone began to buzz. She figured her mother would call her but later, maybe Charlotte had found out about the crash. Scott began to walk back as Jules checked her phone, she didn’t recognize the number. She was about to ask Stiles if he might know if it was someone at their school but the call ended. And she got a text message instead.

**_Did you really think you could ignore me Jess?_ **

Jess. The second name she’d gone by. Jules’s interest in Scott and Stiles dissipated as panic unfurled her chest. She turned around and fell back into her seat, her breathing heavy and quick.

_No, not here, not now._

She remembered things that had happened while she was Jess, she hated being Jess. Jules’s eyes burned. She was vaguely aware of Scott’s face above hers but she wasn’t paying attention. Jules clenched the side of her seat and pressed the back of her head into the side of the bus. A bolt was painfully digging into her skull.

_The pain will help._

She told herself.

_They have my number._

She wanted to cry. Her stomach churned with nausea.

“Jules?” Someone said her name, she thought it was Scott.

“What?” She snapped breathlessly.  

“Are you finished the English assignment?”

_What, are you kidding me? Are you dense? I am having a crisis!_

She looked up at him; he wasn’t asking her for himself. She shook her head.

“Hell no.” She said shakily.

Stiles jumped into the conversation whilst absentmindedly pushing buttons on his phone. “Seriously? Have you finished the book?”

Jules opened her mouth to answer but the two boys ducked down under their seats. She sat up and turned around, making eye contact with Ethan. Her heart hammered in her chest; she did not like either of these twins. Nothing about them felt right. Her phone buzzed again, reminding her she had an unanswered text. Her throat felt tight and she squeezed her eyes shut as she unlocked her phone, she didn’t need to look to type in her password. It was just a reflex now. Now that she had satiated her phone’s need to know she’d seen the message she wanted to throw up.

_How is this happening? What am I supposed to do? Can I go back to the police?_

For another moment Scott and Stiles were very quiet. Jules drew her knees up into her chest and focused on her breathing. She would not panic here, she refused. Jules pressed the palms of her hands against her eyes. It would seem her body had other ideas. The bus was too loud; it lurched again, hitting her head again on the side.

* * *

 

_Is this what she was supposed to do? Just take it? Just handle the pain until it stopped? Everything hurt, her side burned with the new tattoo. Was this meant to break her? It would work. Her head bumped against the wall again and again. She would rather be dead then where she was. She could see a light on in the hallway and someone standing outside, would they be next? Is there a line? Blood and bile filled her mouth and she choked it back down. Would it be so bad if she died right now?_

* * *

 

“Hey.” Someone said softly.

_Stiles_.

* * *

 

Stiles looked to Scott and then back to Jules. He wondered what had brought this on, not that it mattered, not that it was his business.

“What, what do you need?” He spoke softly and quickly, trying not to get to worried himself, he knew what panic looked like and sometimes it didn't end well.

Scott looked to the girls in front of Jules peaking over their seats. “Don’t.” he mouthed.

Jules looked up at him with wide, terrified blue eyes. “I…” She said but didn’t finish. Her eyes were locked on his but it wasn’t like she was seeing him. Stiles knew what he would do for Scott, but he was sure Jules didn’t have asthma, so there goes his go to plan. He remembered what Lydia did at the school after the birds.

_“Look at me Jules. I’m right here. You’re right here.”_

She wasn’t just panicking, she’d be having flashbacks. Stiles shuddered, not wanting to think about what she could be flashing back to.

“Jules look at me.” He said, trying to mimic what Lydia had done. She hadn’t been quiet or soft. Lydia had told Jules what to do and it had worked. He could see her biting her lip. “Juliet I need you to look at me!” He half shouted. Luckily the bus was to full of chatter for people to notice. Her eyes snapped into to focus and she looked sick. Her fingernails dug into the faux leather of the bus benches. Her knuckles were white. Stiles could see her nails bending; it was only a matter of time before they broke. Stiles without thinking, grabbed her hand. Lydia was always grabbing her hand, Jules always seemed to feel better, she seemed to like that contact. But still, Stiles was surprised when she didn’t push him away. Her chest heaved and she looked away from him, down to the floor. He looked up at Scott. Stiles noticed her hand was soft in some places and scarred in others. Scott grabbed a Gatorade bottle that poked out from the top of her bag and opened it; he held it out to Jules. She grabbed the bottle, her other hand still intertwined with Stiles’s.

* * *

 

Jules didn’t delete the text. She wanted to. She really wanted to, but she wanted it tracked more. She did however; inform her mother that her phone was ‘dying’ and that she would text her mother if and when she was no longer stuck on the bus. Charlotte wasn’t thrilled but Jules didn’t give her another option. She had been silent since the attack and embarrassed since realizing it had taken her not moments but minutes to let go of Stiles. But it appeared to Jules that Scott and Stiles had made it their goals to distract her, or possibly themselves. She and Scott quizzed each other on vocabulary while Stiles grew more and more impatient. She felt the same. There were only so many words to recite the meaning of before she lost her mind. She mispronounced a word for Scott and then gazed mindlessly out of the back window and then something caught her eye. A very familiar car with two women sitting in the front.

_What?_

She could hear Coach yelling. Jules wanted nothing more than to toss her sneaker at him. Jules pondered for a moment if she had good enough aim to hit him in the head, or at least the chest.

“Stilinski put your hand down!” Jules groaned.

_Why does he always have to sound like that!?_

“You know there’s like a food exit about a half a mile up I don’t know if we stop and then maybe traffic-” Stiles offered.

“We’re not gonna stop.” Coach cut him off.

“Why not?” Jules protested, louder and angrier then she’d intended to.

“Okay but if we stop-” Stiles continued.

“Stilinski!” He blew the whistle. Jules stood up. “Shut it!” Coach shouted. Jules made a move to step out of the aisle. Stiles grabbed her arm.

“No.” he said. And rolled his eyes at Coach. “Not here, too many witnesses.” He whisper-yelled playfully.

“Seriously!” Coach kept yelling and gesturing wildly. “It’s a little bus! Stop asking me questions!”

Jules sighed and sat back down. She knew she would act exactly the same if she were Finstock. In fact the words “It’s a little bus! Stop asking me questions!” Sounded like something Jules would say.

“I hate him.” Stiles said in resignation. He gestured to Scott and Jules picked up the IPad.

_Does he have any games?_

She flipped through.

_Solitaire! Yes!_

“Did you call Deaton?” Stiles asked Scott.

“I keep getting his voicemail.” Scott answered. He sounded terrible. Jules put down the tablet and grabbed an unopened water bottle out of her bag.

“You need to drink this.” She opened it and handed it to him, mirroring his earlier actions. “I will force it down your throat it I must.”

Scott sighed. Jules and Stiles exchanged worried looks.

“That’s it, I’m calling Lydia and Allison.” Stiles stated.

“How are they gonna help?” Scott asked, taking the water from Jules.

“I can see their car.” Jules stated brightly. “What are they doing here, by the way?”

“They’ve been following us for hours.” Stiles answered. “Pathetic.” He muttered.

Jules snorted. Stiles dialed. She could hear Lydia’s voice and thought of the night before. Her face fell.

“I know you guys are right behind us put me on speaker.” Stiles said.

Stiles glanced at Jules and she wondered why. “Okay look Scott’s sick.” Stiles said. “Still sick.” He added.

_He was fine yesterday, why such a fast deterioration of health?_

Scott put down the water. “Drink more.” Jules ordered. “Or do you want Gatorade?” She asked honestly.

Scott didn’t answer and continued to sip from the bottle, he glanced nervously at her.

Stiles looked at Jules and pulled the phone away from his mouth. “Could you ask coach if anything’s changed on the road?”

Jules raised her eyebrows. “Excuse me?”

_Why are you trying to get rid of me?_

“I think I see movement.” Stiles said to her, she knew he was lying.

Jules huffed and walked to the front of the bus. She wasn’t going to ask Finstock anything but she’d humor Stiles. “I think you’re hallucinating.” She muttered. “And I think your lying.”

Coach turned around, “Hayes! Sit down!”

She glared at him; this was one person she wasn’t afraid of. He was a loud fool, and had the kind of anger that was funny.

“You’re standing.” She pointed out.

Before he could have another “It’s a little bus” moment she turned around and walked back to her seat. On her way back she noticed Jared.

“Are you okay?” She asked him. He said nothing and looked green. Jules stepped away. “Drink some water.” She told him and continued down the aisle.

“Reason?!” Stiles exclaimed on the phone, “Have you met this guy?” he gestured to the coach and shot Jules an incredulous look.

“Just try something.” Jules heard Allison urge.

Stiles hung up and looked to his worsening friend. Jules nudged Stiles and jerked her head towards Jared, there was a sour expression on her face. “I have an idea.” She didn't sound happy about it.

* * *

 

“Coach its five minutes for a bathroom break.” Stiles tried to reason with him. Jules stood behind him nodding. “We’ve been on this thing for like three hours.”

“Closer to four actually.” Jules corrected.

Stiles pointed to her. “Four. Four hours.” He reiterated.

Coach blew his whistle.

“It’s sixty miles to the next rest stop!” Stiles started again.

Coach blew his whistle. Jules clenched her jaw.

“Being cooped up for hours is not good-” Stiles tried again.

The whistle blew. Jules wanted to rip it out of his mouth and strangle him with it.

“You know our bladders aren’t exactly-” Stiles continued.

The whistle blew.

“What if I was having feminine issu-” Jules chimed in with what usually made men let her do whatever she wanted.

The whistle blew.

“That is a perfectly valid reason to-” Stiles backed her, but coach was having none of it. Stiles kept trying to get a word in and Jules looked back at Scott. She was tempted to call an ambulance, she was stopped by the knowledge that one would not get here fast enough to be of any help.

“Let me talk!” Stiles was getting angrier and angrier, Finstock laughed.

“Stop enjoying this you-” Jules was enraged.

The coach blew the whistle until he ran out of breathe. “Get back to your seats!” He ordered.

“OKAY!” Stiles yelled.

Jules took a step towards the coach “Listen up as-”. Stiles grabbed her shoulders and shushed her.

“He likes it.” Stiles snapped while trying to push her away from the coach.

“I want to hit him.” Jules stated.

“Everyone wants to hit him. You get used to it.” Stiles said in an irritated voice.

Jules looked over to Jared. “Plan B?” She asked with a sigh.

Stiles nodded reluctantly. “Plan B.”

* * *

 

Jules was too disgusted and frazzled as she got off the bus to notice Stiles and Scott disappear. She did see Allison’s car parked nearby. Jules had half a mind to go search for them but she had more pressing matters. The rest stop had a gas station and inside gas stations was food. Jules bought five sandwiches and various types of candy and more water. Coming out of the gas station she spotted Stiles and Lydia leaving the men’s washroom. With no sign of Scott or Allison. Afraid of what she might find, Jules first used the woman’s washroom herself and then grit her teeth and walked inside. Jules was not prepared for what she found. She didn’t know what she expected; let alone what she wanted to learn. Fortunately she had the sense to stay quiet, but she wanted to scream. Allison was threading what looked like string from Lydia’s travel sewing kit through deep gashes on Scott’s side. The cuts oozed black. Jules had seen many types of wounds, none of them had looked like that. She gagged and darted out of the bathroom. Trying to understand what she had just seen. Surely Allison couldn’t think she could fix that? Why weren’t they calling an ambulance? One could get to them now. Why hadn’t they gone to a hospital when Scott got hurt?

_Did that happen last night?_

Her head spun and she leaned against the wall.

_"Well there are all kinds of magical implications but magic isn’t real”_

Jules wasn't sure why that popped into her head. She'd said it. It was true.

_Serial killers inject themselves into investigations._

“Let’s go!” Coach called. “Back on the bus!”

She spotted Stiles and Lydia and charged over. She grabbed Stiles by the arm and dragged him behind the bus. A bitter and dark feeling wormed its way into her chest, these people were far to close and knew far to much about the killing for Jules to let it slide. What she had just seen had been far to strange and rattled her far to much for her to brush it off.

“I just walked in on Allison sewing up Scott with Lydia’s sewing kit in the men’s bathroom!” She shouted.

“What were you doing in the men’s bathroom?” Stiles evaded her question.

She smacked his arm. “Trying to figure out what’s going on!” She shouted angrily. Stiles was at a loss for words. So she kept talking. “Because I bring up ritual sacrifice and you are like ‘huh not a bad idea’ but I know you know more then you’re letting on and I go over to Lydia’s last night and she’s freaking out and Allison’s busy and Scott is oozing black shit and he looks like death so what the hell is going on!?” She spoke fast but he hung onto every word.

“I promise you do not want to know.” Stiles snapped clearly.

Jules glared at him. “You’d be surprised at what I can handle.” She said darkly. “Because if you don’t tell me I first I make the assumption that you and your friends are in a cult. Secondly, that you’re involved in the murders and third I tell coach what’s going on in there.” She spoke in a deadly calm voice. Jules meant every word and it looked like Stiles could tell. Stiles looked over at the bathroom to see Allison and Lydia supporting Scott’s weight as they exited the building.

“See he’s fine!” Stiles gestured wildly at his friend.

Jules’s eyes darted over to them but something else caught her eye. Isaac advancing on Ethan.

_They’re involved somehow. They have to be._

Isaac lunged at Ethan.

“Stiles!” Jules shouted and began to run.

She made a move to get closer, to try and pull Isaac off of Ethan. Stiles pulled her back.

“Don’t.” he said.

“Why not?” She growled at him.

The sound of the punches being thrown struck nerves in her body. She wanted to do what she hadn’t been able to so many times. She wanted to protect someone just once. She turned back to them but Stiles was relentless.

“Jules don’t.” His voice was softened.

She shoved him away her eyes burned with rage. “Why not!?”

“Because they’ll heal.” Stiles said, he lead her further away from the crowd.

“Bruises like that don’t just go away!” Jules shouted. Her heart pounded and she stared at Stiles. She noticed everything, she did with everyone. The anxiety in his eyes, the way he was putting himself between her and them, the way he tried to keep her away.

_What is going on? What are you trying to protect me from? Or is it you you’re trying to protect?_

* * *

 

Stiles sighed; he didn’t see a way out. Jules was relentless, from what he remembered from before she had always been that way. Infuriatingly stubborn. And she either knew more then she thought she did or knew too much already. “They do with these guys.” Stiles said in a resigned voice. He watched her face. Her mouth stayed a hard line and her hands stayed in fists.

“What does that mean?” She asked darkly.

Allison, Lydia and Scott came over.

“Stiles what’s happening?” Scott asked his best friend.

“They went after him. I told him what was happening with you.” Stiles explained. “They just went after him.

“Who Boyd?” Scott asked urgently.

Coach was screaming Isaac’s name.

Scott burst through the crowd. “Isaac!” He shouted.

And Isaac stopped. Stiles’s eyes darted over to a still very angry and confused Jules. He nudged Lydia and Allison.

“She knows.” He jerked his head over to Jules. “She doesn’t know she knows but she knows.” He spoke at a mile a minute.               

“How much does she know?” Allison asked worriedly.

“She figured out the sacrifices and she knows we’re lying to her. Well she didn’t say that but she saw you stitching up Scott.” Stiles explained.

Lydia looked horrified. “She can’t be involved in this. Jules has seen-”

“Too much already?” Stiles interrupted her. “I got that but do you think she’s gonna trust us if we’re keeping stuff from her?”

A look of confusion passed over Lydia’s face.

_I probably should have said “trust you”, too late now._

They looked over at Jules; she was staring at Isaac like she’d seen a ghost. Her eyes flicked lividly at them.

“No, we are not telling her.” Lydia was adamant. “She can’t know she- she’s not ready for that.”

“Lydia, who is?” Allison asked. “Were you?” She sounded resigned to the idea of telling Jules. "Did you think that you could keep her in your life and not tell her eventually?"

Lydia looked like she hadn't thought about it, or maybe didn't want to.

“No, but I wasn’t-” Lydia stopped short. Stiles knew what Lydia meant. “Jules doesn’t need any more turmoil in her life; we keep her out of this.” She said with a finality in her voice, like the decision was made by her and her alone.

“So what are you going to do? Cut her off? We can't decide what she's ready for.” Allison said calmly to Lydia.

Stiles looked back and forth between an increasingly distressed Jules and Lydia. He understood where Lydia was coming from but, “Lydia, you know her best, if she thinks that we are murdering people! Or know someone who is, what is she gonna do?" Stiles was buzzing with nervous energy, he didn't want anyone else involved, he didn't want anyone else to worry about.

Lydia stared helplessly at Jules. “Whatever she could to figure it out and stop people from getting hurt.” She said in a quiet voice. “That’s what Jules would do.”

Lydia looked back to Stiles; his eyes were set on Jules. Allison had her eyes on Scott.

“She thinks she wants the truth. She thinks she won’t get hurt.” Lydia said in a steady and determined voice.

Stiles remembered her panic attack earlier and the day she’d found Kyle’s body. Both times she’d bounced back like nothing had happened. “I think she’s stronger then she’s getting credit for.”

Lydia shot him a glare. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Lydia.” Allison soothed.

People were beginning to get back onto the bus. Scott was watching them. Jules was standing to the side. They four of them could tell Jules was thinking. Scott walked over, his eyes on Jules.

“If she wants to know…” He trailed off.

“Oh my god.” Stiles rolled his eyes and walked over to her. “Let’s just get on the bus.” He sounded jittery and quick

Jules grabbed Stiles’s arm, her fingers gripped like a vice. “What did I just witness?” She hissed.

“Stilinski! McCall! Others! Let’s go!” Coach shouted.

Stiles looked over to Allison, Lydia and a much healthier Scott. The three of them were headed over. Stiles nodded to Scott. Jules watched him intently.

“Gonna show me a magic trick?” She asked him sarcastically.

Scott’s eyes glowed a brilliant gold and Jules fell silent. Stiles patted her on the upper back.

“Werewolves.” 

 


	6. Motel California

**Author Note: Because of the subject matter associated with this episode I am placing a warning here.**

** Chapter Six – Motel California **

* * *

 

Stiles escorted a numb Jules onto the bus. She slid into her seat up and against the window. Stiles sat down next to her and Lydia on the other side of him. He was squished against her, Stiles awkwardly tried to lean away. Jules was staring wide eyed at the bench in front of her, paying no attention to their seating arrangement. The four teenagers exchanged concerned glances about Jules and Stiles waved his hand in front of her face.

“You good?” He asked. “Catatonic?” His voice was light.

She blinked slowly and turned to him, her face a picture of shock. “I would much prefer if you four were in a cult and somehow involved in serial killings.” She stated. And that was true, Jules knew what people were capable of, but werewolves... this was absurd.

“Sorry.” Stiles said sheepishly.

Jules bit her lip and her eyes darted away from him. “Somehow I think I’m gonna be sorry.” She muttered. Lydia leaned over and grabbed her hand. Scott, Stiles and Allison were watching intently.

“This doesn’t mean you have to get involved.” Lydia assured Jules. “It’s actually easier to stay safe if you know what’s going on.” For a moment she sounded almost pleading, asking for Jules to stay where she was, at a safe distance. Jules knew that by safe Lydia meant alive. Jules fell very quiet, a hollow pit formed in her stomach. In theory she had wanted to know, she had wanted to do something. Jules was appalled with herself.

_So now that I know I’m a coward? Only want to help before it gets hard, is that it Juliet?_

Jules clenched her jaw and brought her eyes up to meet Lydia’s. Lydia of course, must have had some idea of what was going through Jules’s head and she didn’t look happy about it. Jules knew she shouldn’t feel like she owed the world her courage. Didn’t she understand it took guts to survive what she had? Lydia frowned. Lydia didn’t know even a quarter of what Jules had endured; Jules figured maybe she wasn’t in a place to try and understand. A trademark smirk formed on Jules’s face with her eyebrows raised. She swallowed the bitter taste of her fear and flashed a sharp grin.

“Hell no, I’m involved.” She said. Her eyes rested on Stiles. “I thought of druids before this loser thought of druids.” She gloated.

Stiles mocked being offended. “We don’t know that.”

Jules opened her bag. “By the way I bought everyone a sandwich.”

Though she couldn't bear the thought of eating right then.

* * *

 

“Alright let’s go over this one more time.” Stiles said.

Jules listened intently, watching his every move. “So it’s the sacrifices, right? Everything has to do with them and someone who thinks he’s, like a dark druid of some kind.” Stiles continued.

“We should check recent releases from Eichen house, I get that werewolves are real or whatever but this could still be human.” Jules said quietly.Clinging to the hope that her world wasn't as strange as it was.

Lydia wasn’t convinced. “Or it actually is a dark druid.”

Jules sighed. “I hate that possibility.” She said candidly.

“A Darach.” Stiles corrected them.

Jules frowned; the word hadn’t come up in her research, but then again, she hadn't been looking.

“You know,” Lydia said. She looked away from Stiles and Jules. “Some ancient cultures sacrificed people in preparation for battle.”

Stiles sighed, “So we got alpha werewolves against a dark druid.”

“Yeah.” Lydia huffed.

“Or” Jules interjected, “We have a poorly timed and delusional serial killer." She offered with a forced smile. "It’s like the ‘would you rather’ of horror.” Jules sounded almost enthusiastic, trying her best to mask her confusion. Everything she knew about her world was wrong, she didn't want to think about it. Jules could feel her heart hammering away in her chest and her stomach flipping. If she thought about it, there'd be no coming back from those thoughts. There's be nothing real for her to hold onto. Stiles pressed his lips together and put his hand on her shoulder, he didn't say anything. Jules stared at him, would she rather contend with the supernatural or face a human evil? Jules knew what people were capable of; there were no lines they wouldn’t cross.

* * *

 

Stiles watched her face change, her eyes darken and her jaw set. He wanted to understand what she was thinking. Jules had surprised him; she’d been surprising him since they’d met. Since he’d known her as she was now, not as Lydia’s shadow as a child. He waited for an answer, grappling with the reasons she’d go with either.

“Werewolves. I’d rather deal with werewolves.” She said quietly, her eyes sliding to the window.

_But why?_

He wanted to know, but he didn't want to think about it. There would be a million reasons why she'd rather face anything but people, Stiles didn't want to run through them all, each more horrible then the last.

* * *

 

By the time the sun had set Jules had fallen into an uncomfortable sleep with her head on the window. She was awoken when the bus lurched to a stop. A bolt on the wall collided with her temple and she snapped awake.

“Jesus Christ!” She exclaimed and rubbed her head. Stiles was still right next to her, raising his eyebrows.

“You okay?” He asked.

“No, I’m having a hematoma.” She droned sarcastically.

Jules looked out the window and froze. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. She hated motels and this one didn't look any more pleasant than any she’d seen before. Decrpit cars belong to god knows who, a flickering neon sign, countless doors and places to hide. She shuddered.

“Motel Glen Capri.” Stiles read the neon sign.

Anxiety flickered in her chest. Jules had no good memory associated with a motel.  Cigarette stained ceilings; mildew in showers and the creak of beds haunted her nightmares. Pieces of things she was dying to forget. The turkey sub she’d forced down was threatening to make a second appearance and she put her head between her knees. Jules recognized a familiar manicured hand on her own. Jules looked to Lydia and then up at Allison.

“Girls night?” Allison joked.

Jules grabbed her bag and stood up. “Sure.” She breathed out.  **“** Alright.”

* * *

 

The five of them were some of the last off the bus.

“I’ve seen worse.” Scott said, trying to be optimistic.

“Where have you seen worse?” Stiles asked him.

“Jersey.” Jules muttered. She clutched the strap of her bag.

Coach blew his damned whistle. She shot Finstock a murderous glare.

“Listen up! Meets been pushed ‘till tomorrow. This is the closet motel with the most vacancies and least amount of good judgement when it comes to accepting a bunch of degenerates like yourselves.”

_Nice._

“You’re pairing up, choose wisely.” Coach held up keys.

Jules exchanged looks with Lydia and Allison. “I’ll take the floor, won’t be sleeping anyway.” She mumbled.

“You sure?” Allison asked.

Jules nodded.

“And I’ll have no sexual perversions perpetrated by you little deviants!” Coach called after the retreating students.

_Won’t be a problem._

Jules waited for Lydia and Allison to make a move towards going inside. Lydia had a strange look on her face, one reminiscent of fear.

“Got that?” Coach continued to talk at his students. “Keep your dirty little hands to your dirty little selves!”

The bus pulled away, causing Jules to jump. She grabbed a key from Finstock, yanking it angrily out of his hand.

“Lydia?” Allison said, turning towards their friend, Jules quirked an eyebrow.

“Scott had a point. There is worse.” She motioned towards the motel.

“I don’t like this place.” Lydia stated. Jules had been right, she was scared.

“Me neither Red.” Jules huffed and glanced back to the Glen Capri. “But we’ll survive.” Her voice was gruff. Surviving was always the bare minimum, and Jules had always managed it.

“I don’t think the people who own this place like this place.” Allison said with a smile.

“She has a point.” Jules agreed. She walked over to Lydia and tossed her arm around Lydia’s shoulders. “It’s just a night.”

She tossed the key to Allison; she snatched it out of the air.

“A lot can happen in one night.” Lydia sounded like she was far away, her eyes staring blankly at the motel. Jules shivered and suddenly felt too exposed in the parking lot.

_I know._

* * *

 

Jules tossed her bag into her room and darted back out of the door.

“Where are you going?” Allison asked.

“I want to talk to Stiles.” Jules answered as if that should have been obvious. “I have some questions.”

Allison smirked. “I’m sure we can answer them.”

Jules’s eyes darted to Lydia’s still form sitting on her bed. “Uh…”

Allison snorted, “Fine. If you would rather be with Stiles then us, go right ahead.”

Jules pointed an accusing finger at Allison. “Hey, I know what you’re thinking and no. Stop thinking it.”

Allison raised her brow. “What am I thinking?” She asked lightly.

Jules rolled her eyes. “I know you know what you’re thinking.” She backed out of the room and turned down the hall. She heard Allison say something to Lydia and leaped back into the doorway.

“Do not!”

And she turned away again. She heard Lydia laugh.

* * *

 

Jules paced in front of Scott and Stiles's room. She could hear them talking but wasn’t able to make out what they were saying. Jules believed that Lydia and Allison were just as involved in the supernatural affair as Scott and Stiles. But Scott was the werewolf and Stiles…  Stiles was easier to bombard with questions.  She tapped on the door.

“Who is it?” She heard Stiles’s slightly panicked voice.

Jules snorted.

_Who does he think it could be?_

“Do you have a moment for our Lord and savior the devil himself?” She asked in a croaky voice.

Stiles opened the door. “That’s hilarious.” His voice was soaked in sarcasm. “You know there’s like murders happening right? Don’t joke about Satan.” He told her.

Jules could see Scott looking back and forth between the two of them. “Hey.” He said from his position of half lying on his bed. Jules wondered if he was completely healed from before.

Jules looked up at Stiles. “Someone told me today that the supernatural existed, I have some questions for that someone.”

She leaned in the doorway, the light from the walkway half illuminated her face. Scott got up and went into the bathroom. Jules noted his stiff posture. “But if now’s a bad time…” She trailed off and backed out. Stiles stepped out of the room and let the door shut behind him.

“I saw a vending machine.” He pointed behind him towards the metal stairs; his eyes were trained on her. She looked away and scratched at the back of her neck.

Jules nodded. “I’ll come with.”

* * *

 

Jules hopped down the stairs alongside Stiles.

“Who do you think it is?” She asked.

Stiles stopped one step above her. “The Darach?”

Jules nodded. He looked away from her. He didn’t want to tell her that his prime suspect was her closest friend. “I don’t know.”

His eyes flicked back down to her, she was scowling at him; her hair curling in the humidity from the incoming storm. There was a strand hooked around her ear, he watched her move it away, keeping his eyes anywhere but hers.

“Seriously? No ideas?” She didn’t sound like she believed him. In fact, she sounded disappointed.

“There’s this whole long story-” He started.

“I figured.” She leaned on the railing. “We have time.”

Stiles let out a puff of breath. “Not tonight.” His eyes darted around the parking lot. He bet she was wondering why he wouldn’t look at her, because Stiles could feel her eyes on him. It was unnerving the way she looked at him sometimes, like she could see right through him. She didn’t know him, not that well, Stiles knew that. But she saw more than he had given her credit for. He turned and started back down the stairs. Jules didn’t move. He turned back around.

“Jules?” He asked and gestured towards the machine behind them.

“Who do you think it is?” Her voice was low and serious.

He looked up at her and then down at his hands. “Just a list of people you don’t know.” He did his best to sound exasperated to deter more questions on the subject.

_Lies of omission._

He thought. He heard Jules sigh and make her way down the rest of the stairs, she brushed past him. “Alright.”

But Stiles already knew, she could tell when people were keeping something from her. That had to be the reason they were talking.

* * *

 

Jules was at Stiles’s shoulder peering at Boyd as they approached the snack machine. She didn’t want to buy anything. She had food in her room. She thought for a moment she should mention that to Stiles but she was distracted by him grabbing the machine and then Boyd put his fist through it. Jules jumped back and threw her hands above her head. Her heart began to pound. Stiles absentmindedly laid his hand protectively on her shoulder as he watched Boyd grab his snack and stalk off. The pair exchanged astonished looks, though Jules was more afraid than anything else. He looked her over and then back to the machine. The two of them glanced around before reaching inside and grabbing a few snacks each.

“Is that normal?” Jules whispered to him.

Stiles shook his head and opened a package of crackers, spilling crumbs all over the ground. Jules stuffed the food into the pocket on her sweatshirt. Stiles said something through a full mouth.

“What?” She asked him and started up the stairs.

He swallowed and then coughed. “Your sweater, I was gonna ask you about it.”

It then occurred to Jules that she’d spent the entire day with the FBI logo splayed across her chest. “What about it?”

“It doesn’t look like something you got from a gift shop.” He pointed out.

“You mean it looks like a legit FBI sweatshirt?” She clarified. He nodded. “It is.” She said shortly.

Thankfully Stiles didn’t ask any more questions. Jules figured he knew he wouldn’t get an answer. But she was still eager to change the topic. “I have some candy in my bag. Like gummy bears and stuff.”

Stiles looked ecstatic and started motioning for her to walk faster. She let out a small laugh. “I’ll grab them.”

* * *

 

Jules nearly rammed into a distressed Scott on her way into her room.

“Yo.” She said as he hurried past her.

“Allison? What did you do to Scott?” She called into the bathroom.

There was silence. Her heart leapt into her thought as Jules charged inside and Allison poked her head out from behind the shower curtain. “What? I couldn’t hear you.”

Allison seemed off, she was avoiding Jules eyes. Jules stared at her friend and then back towards the door, a familiar feeling of protectiveness flared up in her chest. “Allison are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Allison said quietly. “I’m fine.”

Jules cocked her head and crossed her arms. “If you want me to murder Scott I will. Werewolf or not I could take him.” She joked, but she was half serious.

“I don’t need you to kill Scott.” Allison assured. “Aren’t you hanging out with Stiles?” Allison asked suggestively. In order to avoid another fiasco like the one she’d had at Lydia’s, Jules simply rolled her eyes and grabbed what she needed from her bag. “That bathroom smells like mold!”She added on her way out.

* * *

 

There was a tapping sound on the door. Stiles got up from his seat off the bed and opened it. Jules shook two containers. One with gummy worms and one with bears.

“I also brought water.” She said and tossed him a bottle.

Stiles grabbed it and shut the door behind her as she walked in. Jules turned at the sound. He saw her clench her jaw. “Would you mind if we left that open? It’s stuffy in here.” Her voice was small.

It wasn’t, the rooms were cold but Stiles swung the door back open. He guessed there was a different reason she wanted it open but he didn’t want to think too hard on it. Jules sat down cross legged on a desk chair and handed him a container as he walked by and sat on his bed.

“Where’s Scott?” She asked. “I just saw him.”

Stile shrugged and fought with the plastic seal. “Probably talking with Allison.”

Jules shook her head. “What happened between them? Despite the obvious.”

Stiles looked up at her quickly. “It’s a-”

“Long story?” Jules interrupted him and leaned forward in her chair. “I’d like to hear it.”

He wondered why. Stiles watched Jules twirl a gummy worm around in her fingers before eating it. Every once and a while her eyes would flick to her phone. He thought she’d be terrified. She hadn’t found out like he had, it wasn’t this incredible, strange thing happening to her best friend. She walked into this knowing that people were dying and she wasn’t afraid, not like she should be. He was. Stiles was scared out of his mind. And before he could think better of it he asked her.

“Aren’t you scared?” He blurted out. She dropped a worm and stared at him with wide blue eyes.

“What of? Werewolves? Whatever a Darach is? The fact that everything I thought about what’s real what isn’t could be wrong?” There was a hint of humor in her voice, laid over the rug that had been yanked out from under her feet. "No, I’m not. Not really.” Her voice was even and strong. If she was lying to him Stiles couldn’t tell. And he didn’t think she was being dishonest. He hoped not.

“How?” His voice was light but the question wasn’t. Stiles studied her as she furrowed her brow and her eyes flicked towards the open door and then around the room. She opened her mouth and then closed it. He wanted to know what she was thinking, mainly because he had no idea.

* * *

 

Jules knew what she wanted to say. She knew what words she wanted to use to break the thick silence that hung between them.

_Once you’ve seen enough nothing scares you anymore. I panic about the past, I can’t about the present. My quota for horrible life events has been filled, now it’s all just crap I have to deal with. A burden to bear. And sometimes I get scared, for a second and then that feeling is gone. I don't feel that anymore._

Jules sighed wondering if that was her life now. Just dealing with problems and hoping that they go away: a trial, a stalker, PTSD and the supernatural. When Jules was younger she could have never imagined those things all being contended with by one person and yet here she was, grappling with them all. Jules didn’t answer the question. Instead she just shot a small smile at him and decided that the best way out of this was to turn it on him.

“You’re not scared.” She pointed out. “At least I don’t see it.”

Stiles tossed a bear into the air and tried to catch it in his mouth. He failed miserably and bent to pick it up. He avoided her eyes.

_Though just because I don’t see it doesn’t mean it isn’t there._

“Don’t eat that. You’ll get syphilis or something.” Jules warned.

Stiles aimed for the trash can and threw, he missed. Jules snorted. Her phone buzzed and she jumped, her heart crawled up into her throat. She reached for it. It was just her mother saying goodnight. Jules replied and then set it down carefully.

“Your mom?” Stiles asked.

Jules nodded. “She’s a little overprotective.”

_Not that I don’t know why._

She could see the same comment on his face. Jules for a moment felt bitter. He was just like everyone else, knowing what happened to her but not addressing it. And Stiles must have noticed the change in her demeanor. He opened his mouth to say something but Jules forgot about her rage at most of the world. She turned to him wide eyes.

“Do you know anyone who can trace a text?” She blurted out.

“Danny.” Stiles answered quickly. He looked at her strangely, maybe wanting to ask why. Jules hoped he wouldn’t. “But you’d have to push.” Stiles added.

“Sounds like you know from personal experience.” Jules commented slyly. “or is that part of the big long story I can’t hear.”

Stiles nodded. “Oh yeah.” He said with a zealous nod.

Jules stood up and stretched. Settling with the fact that Stiles wasn't talking, not tonight. “My pajamas and math homework are calling to me.” Stiles closed the container; she waved for him to stop. “Keep them. I’m not supposed to eat a lot of sugar anyway.”

She crossed the room and left through the open doorway, Stiles watched her go.

* * *

 

“Allison!” Jules called out. “Lydia!”

Jules found their room empty with the door ajar. She’d seen this before. “Lydia!” She called out again. Her head pounded. She hated motels. Jules leaned forward and gripped the railing and took deep breaths. She looked out across the parking lot and into the distance. It was a stormy night, clouds swirled overhead and the dampness in the air made her chest feel heavy. It was nothing like most nights in New York. The bustling city sounds were ingrained into her memory. All that noise, all those people and no one knew who she was. No one would help her. But the silence of the California desert was almost worse. She shut her eyes and pushed away New York. If she were out there alone and screamed. No one would find her here. Jules shuddered, listing off every serial killer in California she could remember _._

_William Bonin, Richard Chase, Patrick Kearney, Kenneth Bianchi and Angelo Buono, the Zodiac Killer and Charles Manson and the list goes on and on._

“Allison! Lydia!” She called out again, desperation edged at her voice.

Either no one heard her or no one cared, like her voice was lost in the surrounding desert. Jules didn’t want to go looking for them. In a place like the Glen Capri with an imagination like hers Jules didn’t want to find them. She heard footsteps coming around the corner. Jules rounded on the two girls, she looked livid.

“When someone is calling your name you answer!” She shouted.

Lydia didn’t say anything, she was frozen. Jules tapped her foot. She was on edge; it was her phone and her new knowledge and the motel and her entire life.

“Two people commit suicide in that room.” Allison said. “Recently.” Her voice was somber.

“People commit suicide all the time.” Jules said in a low voice. “It’s one of the leading causes of death.” She stated. Her voice was monotonous. These were just facts. Jules remembered one of the few times her hands were slick with someone else’s blood.

She pushed the image from her mind. “What is it?” Her eyes were hard on Lydia.

Lydia shook her head and Jules guessed that was meant for Allison and not her. “The hotel keeps track.” Lydia said in a small voice. “Of every suicide they’ve had here.”

Jules frowned, she didn’t want to ask, but she would anyway. “How many?” She sounded resigned.

_Fifty? Sixty?_

“One hundred and ninety eight.” Allison answered clearly.

Jules leaned back on the wall and looked down at reception. “These sickos keep track?” She scoffed.

She thought of the number branded on her ribcage.

_I guess most sadistic bastards do._

Jules clapped her hands together. “This seems like a good time to conclude this evening’s festivities. Who wants gummy worms?”

Allison quirked an eyebrow.

“No one Jules.” Lydia sighed. “No one wants gummy worms.”

* * *

 

As soon as they were back in the room Lydia was animated again.

“You know there is something seriously wrong with this place.” She said while packing her things.

Jules lay sprawled on the floor, refusing to get on the beds. “Astute observation Sherlock.” She deadpanned.

She munched on one of her stolen crackers.

“Guys we need to leave.” Lydia urged.

“We leave in the morning.” Jules said. “Just stay awake.” She offered, unsure of what Lydia and Allison were hiding from her and unsure if she wanted to know.

“But they were suicides, not murders and it’s not like this place is haunted, right?” Allison reasoned.

“Ghosts? Are ghosts a thing?” Jules interjected only to be ignored by more pressing issues.

Lydia shrugged. “Maybe it is. You know, I bet that couple made their suicide pact in that very room.” She walked towards Allison. “Maybe that’s why they’re renovating.” She whispered.

“What couple? How do you know there was a couple? Is this some Romeo and Juliet crap cause I’d hate that.” Her voice was serious. How could they know who had died?

Lydia looked at Jules. “It just was a couple! Don’t question it!”

Jules frowned and raised her hands in defense. “Okay.”

“Maybe they’ve been scraping brain matter off the wood paneling!” Lydia continued.

Jules sighed and stood up. “So what if they were?” She couldn’t understand why Lydia was so concerned.

_So what if some couple killed themselves here? People die every day, what’s got you so worked up about it. People die all around you._

“Maybe we should find out.” Allison said.

Jules watched them. She knew the big picture now, but it would always be the little details that mattered. Her eyes were set on Lydia. Semi frantic, determined Lydia. What was it that was so important about this?What was bothering her so badly?

* * *

 

The trio of girls approached reception. Jules pressed the buzzer.

“Guys that lady is gone.” Jules looked inside. “They always leave.” She mused.

_They want to pretend they don’t know what happens at places like this._

“Well there goes that.” Lydia huffed.

Allison turned to Lydia and Jules. “Did you say the sign said one ninety eight?” She asked Lydia.

Jules looked closer inside.

_Two hundred and one._

“Holy shit.” Jules whispered.

“It was one ninety eight.” Lydia was confident in her words. “I swear to god it was one ninety eight.”

“So what does that mean that there’s been three more suicides?” Allison asked quickly.

“We would have noticed if three people upped and died.” Jules pointed out. “There’d be at least a few ambulances.”

“Three more about to happen.” Lydia said quietly.

Each girl looked back inside, Jules’s heart fluttered with anticipation. If three more people were about kill themselves, what could she do about it?

_Three suicides. Okay, I resign. Not human murders._

* * *

 

“Last time I saw Scott act like that it was during the full moon.” Allison told them.

Stiles had reappeared upon Lydia’s request. Jules paced back and forth, twirling her ponytail in her hand.

“Yeah, I know. He was definitely a little off with me too, but actually it was Boyd who was really off. Jules and I watched him put his fist through the vending machine.” Stiles explained.

Jules nodded, she remembered the moment vividly.

“See! It is the motel.” Lydia said. “Either we need to get out of here now or” She pulled open the drawer. “Someone needs to learn how to do an exorcism ASAP, before the werewolves go crazy and kill us.” She held out the bible to Jules.

“Excuse me?” She asked, offended and didn’t take it.

“You’re the only one remotely religious.” Lydia said flatly.

“I’m Jewish not a Catholic priest in a B-list celebrity horror film.” She deadpanned. “And I’ve never read the bible, but I doubt there’s an exorcism in it!”

_Right?_

“Okay, just hold on, all right?” Stiles asked.

“Let’s try not to get anti-Semitic in our panic okay?” Jules requested bitterly.

“Sorry.” Lydia huffed.

“What if it’s not just the motel?” Stiles said, trying to maintain some form of calm in the room.

“The Darach. One ninety eight to two hundred and one that’s three, it’s not a coincidence.” She looked to Stiles. “It’s a pattern.”

“Exactly.” Stiles said. 

“Three sacrifices?” Allison confirmed.

“What if this time its three werewolves?” Stiles offered.

“Scott, Isaac and Boyd.” Allison said, her voice was quiet.

“And Ethan.” Jules added. “Can’t forget about him.” She added in a bitter tone.

_Though I sure would like to._

“Maybe we were meant to come here.” Stiles said to them.

Jules clucked her tongue. “Suicide is an excellent way to cover up a murder. I'm going to assume a dark magical being could be puppeteering."

“Exactly!” Lydia exclaimed. “So can we get the hell out of here now?” She looked at them. “Please?”

Jules nodded. “I’ve wanted to get the hell out of here since we pulled up.”

She glanced at her friends. Stiles was staring at the bible, Jules followed his eyes. “Wait hold up.” She said.

“Let me see that.” Stiles took it from Lydia and opened it, unfolding a loose piece of paper.

“What is that?” Allison asked.

“Christian Holy book.” Jules stated the obvious. “Oh, you mean the newspaper clipping?” She asked Allison sardonically.

Lydia shot her a glare.

“Twenty eight year old man hangs himself at the infamous Glen Capri.” Stiles read out the headline. Jules crowded beside him. Stiles shook out the rest of the clippings. She watched in curious horror as they fluttered down onto the bed. The group of them began sorting them out.

“Oh, no look at these two.” Lydia said. “They both mention the room 217.”

Jules backed away from them.

“These are probably all the suicides that happened in this room.” Lydia finished.

Jules felt sick and ran her hands over her face. Her heart raced and she felt hot and cold at once. She could feel blood on her hands.

* * *

 

_“Sara!” Jules screamed. “Sara!”_

* * *

 

She threw open the door and leaned over the balcony. She couldn’t hear what the others were saying. But Stiles and Lydia both called her name. The three of them raced out of the room.

“Next door!” Stiles said as he passed her. “You okay?” He called behind him.

Jules sighed and tore after them. “Just peachy.” She muttered.

Stiles tried the door.

“That was not locked before” Lydia said.

“Forget it! We need to get Scott, Isaac and Boyd out of here!” Allison said.

“And Ethan.” Jules said. “Just cause he’s an ass doesn’t mean…” She trailed off. A whining sound came from inside the room.

“I’m not the only one who heard that am I?” Lydia asked.

“Nope.” Jules said, she stared at the door.

“It sounds like someone turned the handsaw on.” Allison identified the sound.

Stiles appeared between them. “Handsaw?” He asked flatly.

And without pause Jules rammed her foot at the door handle, breaking the latch and lock in one motion. Slamming the door open.

“No! Ethan don’t!” Stiles screamed at him.

Stiles and Jules ran at him, each grabbing the saw. Jules didn’t think for a second how terrible of an idea this was, fighting a saw from a werewolf. She didn’t think at all. Her heart pounded and her hands slipped on the hot metal. Ethan shoved her and Stiles to the ground and they fell with the saw. She rolled to the side and turned to Stiles. He was poised directly over top of the blade. Jules scrambled to her knees and grabbed his arm. Allison crouched behind them. Jules watched, terrified, as claws shot from Ethan’s hands. He was ready to tear himself apart.

“Ethan!” Jules screamed again and leapt to her feet.

She, Stiles and Allison pulled at his arms. Jules tripped, sending the three of them to the ground and Ethan onto the heater. They each scrambled to their feet.

“What just happened?” He asked them like they were at fault.

“You tried to kill yourself Ethan.” Jules said softly.

Ethan looked at her strangely and then ran for the door. They chased after him.

“Ethan!” Stiles called.

* * *

 

The five teenagers raced down the steps, shooting questions at him.

“Didn’t you hear what I just said?” Ethan said, he was irritated. “I don’t know how I got here or what I was doing.”

“Okay you could be a little more helpful; you know we did just save your life.” Stiles said to him.

Jules hit Stiles on the arm. “Ethan you’re in denial about what just happened. What do you remember last?” She was calm. She spoke like someone with experience dealing with this. Ethan glared at Jules.

“And you probably shouldn’t have.” Ethan said bitingly to Stiles and he jogged off in the other direction. Jules went after him, Allison grabbed her.

“He’s fine.” She tried to assure.

Jules scowled. “Clearly not.”

“What now?” Lydia asked. Jules couldn’t tell if the question was rhetoric. It was obvious what to do now.

“Get the hell out of dodge. Somehow.” She looked around the nearly empty parking lot.

“Jules and I will find Scott. You guys grab Isaac and Boyd.” Allison said. “The best thing we can do is get them out of this place.” Allison agreed.

Jules nodded and cast Stiles and Lydia another worried look before following Allison up the steps.

“So how do we do this? Are we gonna split up or what?” Jules asked nervously, she didn’t want to be alone but Allison nodded.

“I’ll go around back and the second floor. You do the first and the lot.”

Jules nodded and Allison headed off.

“Allison!” Jules called after her.

The brunette turned. “Yeah?”

“If I find him before you do, how do I stop him?” She asked meekly.

_Cause the last time I had to talk someone down I couldn’t._

Allison took a deep breath. 

“Scott wants to live. Remind him of that.”


	7. Motel California II

** Chapter Seven – Motel California II **

* * *

 

Jules rapped on doors and disturbed the peace of every person on the first floor. She burst into storage closets and empty rooms. And Scott was nowhere to be found. Her heart ached and her eyes burned. She didn’t want to find the limp body of someone else she’d almost saved. She could still hear the eerie drip of blood from the edge of the bathtub. She could still feel the stiffness of jeans soaked with rosy water. She could still feel the faint pulse of a dying artery and the thickness of the blood that coated Jules’s bony hands. Jules had to remind herself that Scott could heal. She wouldn’t find that. She would never see that again.

Jules pressed her hands into her skull and tried to calm herself. Her throat was raw from screaming at ornery teenagers to open their doors and assaulting them with questions about Scott’s whereabouts.

_They must think I’m crazy._

Jules dropped her head into her hands and bit her lip.

_They’re a little right though._

Jules stood at the dejected side of the hotel. A beaten down pick up trunk accompanied her as she stared blankly at the landscape. She wished she had half the mind to take up an art form, photography or painting or sketching or even writing. Jules sighed; she could do all the reading in the world and still didn’t have a poetic bone in her body. She wondered if that was why she tried not to talk about what she felt with people she didn’t pay to hear it. She couldn’t make it sound romantic or tragic. It was only ugly. Jules knew she could only tell the truth and there was nothing poetic about it. Perhaps she’d teach herself to write once she had something other than horror to build her world around.

Jules thought she heard something from the parking lot. Something like a door slam and the splash of liquid on pavement. Jules took quiet steps around the corner; her sneakers were silent on the dusty ground. Years of practicing being small made her quiet. It was a skill, being a fly on the wall. But as her bright blue eyes fell on the parking lot Jules saw that bathroom again. The one drenched in blood and despair. Only it wasn’t blood that drenched the area around Scott. It was gasoline.

* * *

 

Jules took careful, silent steps. He was watching her. She worried what would happen if she got to close, if he’d take her with him.

_How would I be remembered if he did?_

Jules pushed the thought from her mind.

“Scott?” Her voice was small and tentative. She stood on the edge of the gasoline, poised to step either way.

_If I could would I have wrestled that blade from her fingers? Would I have climbed into that water and held her hands apart until I talked her down?_

Jules didn’t want to think of Sara. The bird like girl who was even smaller in death then she’d been in life.

_Did she have the courage to die or was I braver for living?_

She looked helplessly at Scott. He was different. Unlike Sara, Scott had a life to live. Sara hadn’t but neither had Jules. And she’d survived to stand on the brink again. So what had she really survived for any way? Jules took a step forward.

“Scott I don’t know you.” She said in an honest and even voice. Her eyes flicked back and forth between the unlit flare and his soaked face. “I don’t know what you’ve been through. I don’t know what you’ve seen.” She spoke slowly and offered him a sorrow filled smile. “But that goes both ways doesn’t it?”

He watched her with mild interest. Jules knew if she couldn’t convince him, she could stall and maybe that would be enough. Maybe the others would find their way and maybe it didn’t have to all be on her. Scott didn’t say anything. He stared at her like the world had already ended and it was crumbling off of his shoulders where he carried it. Jules pointed to the flare.

“Can you give that to me and we can talk?” She asked him. “I’ll hold that and you can tell me why you’re here.” Her words made no impact on him, they were just lost in the desert. She needed a different approach. A stronger front. Jules wasn't soft, it didn't suit her.

“Is it the nightmares?” She asked him pointedly. That piqued his interested. “Or the paranoia?” She asked again, harsher this time. “Or is it the crushing feeling that there’s nothing you can do? That no matter what you can’t save everyone.” Jules saw him break; she saw it in his eyes. She knew that would hit a nerve, the funny thing was that was her nerve to. “We aren’t so different Scott. Let me have that.” She reached for the flare. “Come on Scott. You’d rather talk wouldn’t you?” She coaxed and wrapped a shaky hand around the flare. It was rough and dry in her hand. Unlit but still it still felt like it burned. Scott seemed to wake up and not in the way she wanted. He shoved Jules back and she fell. Landing painfully on her back. Jules pushed herself up, her hands and clothes were slick with gasoline. She gagged at the smell.

“Don’t. Don’t bother.” Scott finally spoke.

Slowly and methodically, Jules climbed to her feet and stayed poised in a crouch, her eyes were trained on his. “Scott stop.” Her voice rang out clear. “People give a damn when you aren’t around anymore. Trust me on that one.”

“You don’t know.” He told her, he was shattered. “You don’t know anything about this, about us.” Scott held up the flare and Jules moved out of the puddle of gasoline. Unsure if that mattered now that she was covered in it.

“No I don’t, but I know pain.” Her voice was rough and low. “And someone told me that it will never get better or worse.” She cringed internally, she hated that someone and she hated that they were right. Her voice was strong as she spoke. “It will only get different and all you have to do is hang around long enough to see if you can make it work.” She tried to persuade him. All he had to do was hang around long enough. Long enough for something different.

She could hear voices from across the parking lot, familiar ones. Scott must have as well because he lit the flare. Jules looked hopelessly over to her friends. She tried to say something but her voice caught in her throat.

_I’m sorry._

Was all she wanted to say. What else could she say?

“Scott.” Allison was the first one to speak.

Stiles looked like he’d just been slammed in the stomach with a baseball bat. The trio walked around to where Jules stood.

“Scott.” Allison said again.

But Scott was silent as he brought his eyes up to them. Jules stood between Allison and Stiles; she knew she must reek of gasoline.

The four of them shared a hopeless and silent panic. Jules had run out of things to say but Scott filled the silence.

“There’s no hope.” His voice was defeated.

Hooks of pain dug into Jules’s chest as he spoke. These had once been her words. Her needle. Her arm.

“What do you mean Scott?” Allison asked him. The most composed of them all. “There’s always hope.” She spoke with belief; she’d even mustered a smile. Jules wished she could have been that strong.

“Not for me.” Scott said to her. “Not for Derek.”

Jules didn’t know who that was but she had to assume he was one of the many lives that had been lost.

“Derek wasn’t your fault.” Allison said through a breaking voice.

Jules looked at Stiles. This was his best friend and when this was over what would he do?

“You know Derek wasn’t your fault.” Allison reassured.

“Every time I try to fight back it just gets worse and people keep getting hurt. People keep getting killed.” Scott said, his eyes were shinning and his face dripped with gasoline. Jules felt tears burning in her eyes. She felt what he was saying with every fiber of her body. That had been her life and it tore her apart that it was someone else’s to.

“Scott, listen to me, okay?” Stiles finally spoke up. His voice was tense, a good attempt at keeping steady. Stiles walked towards the pool of gas.

“This isn’t you.” He said strongly. “Alright? This is someone inside your head telling you to do this. Okay now-”

“What if it isn’t?” Scott interrupted. “What if it is just me?”

Allison put her hand to her mouth, lost as to what to do. Jules grabbed and held her hand.

“What if doing this is actually the best thing that I could do for everyone else?” Scott began to cry.

* * *

 

_“Wouldn’t the world be better if we weren’t in it?” Sara asked through the haze of their room. “Doesn’t every faith condemn whores? Since we’re in hell already why don’t we just go?”_

* * *

 

“It all started that night, the night I got bitten.” Scott said with small sobs in his chest. “Do you remember the way it was before that? You and me we were nothing.” He spoke to Stiles, and why would he not? Scott and Stiles were a pair, a duo, before it was anything, it was them.

Allison and Lydia shook. Jules pulled Lydia close.

“We weren’t popular. We weren’t good at lacrosse. We weren’t important. We were no one.” Scott said.

Jules stared at the back of Stiles’s head. Wishing she could scream that those weren’t the things that made you important, wishing she could do anything but spectate.

“Maybe I should just be no one again.” Scott said finally.

Jules let out a silent sob and clutched Lydia.

* * *

 

_“We’re nobody. We don’t matter.” Sara’s voice was rising. “Don’t you get that?” Jules nodded from her place beside Sara in the bed. “Then why do you want to live so badly!? What’s out there for you!? You’re no one! We are no one!”_

* * *

 

“No one at all.” Scott said louder as he turned the flare, prepared to let it drop.

Jules wanted to scream and cry and pound her fists on the ground until the world made things right for him. As if she could beat the will of the cosmos or whatever supernatural force that taunted them, into submission. But she stayed quiet.

“Scott just listen to me, okay?” Stiles asked him. His voice on the verge of breaking but he still sounded strong. “You’re not no one. Okay you’re someone, you’re-” He paused and was taking small steps closer to Scott. “Scott you’re my best friend. Okay? And I need you.”

Stiles inched closer and closer Jules almost wanted to look away.

“Scott you’re my brother.” Stiles looked down at the ground. “All right so…” He took the final step into the gasoline, sealing his fate with Scott’s.

Jules watched, terrified of whatever might happened next. Burning alive was the last way she wanted to die. Jules knew that she wanted her death to be as painless as possible when it came. Being tempered in fire would not make her stronger. It would make her dead. 

“So if you’re gonna do this, then…” Stiles grabbed the flare. “I think you’re just gonna have to take me with you.”

Jules felt the physical pain of guilt wrack her body. She clenched her jaw and doubled forward.

_When you left should I have gone to?_

She asked blindly. She asked a dead girl.

Both boys were letting out inaudible sobs. Jules, Lydia and Allison watched in fear and anguish as Stiles pulled the flare from Scott’s hand and tossed it away. Jules felt like the weight of an anvil had been lifted from her chest. But the relief was short lived. Because the flare rolled, or maybe it was blown back into the gasoline.

“NO!” Lydia screamed and threw herself at Scott and Stiles.

Each of them dove away as the gas went up in flames. Jules landed roughly next to Stiles, the side of her head hit the pavement. She shut her eyes and curled into herself. Hoping, no praying, that it would be enough to protect her. She could feel Stiles’s arm brush hers and she grabbed his shaking hand and waited for the flames to die.

* * *

 

Once the fire died and they were back on their shaky feet. They were stunned. Jules surprised even herself by being the first one to speak.

“I’m gonna go.” She said numbly and took a step. She stumbled and went crashing to her knees. Blood oozed from under her hair. She brought her hand up to the wound. “Mom’s gonna be so pissed.” Jules mumbled as Allison knelt in front of her.

“I’m gonna get the first aid kit off of the bus. Don’t move.” Allison said to her, Allison was shaking.

Jules nodded and sent stabs of pain through her skull. Slowly she peeled off her sweater and tossed it aside. But her t-shirt was soaked through. For a second Jules wondered if she’d rather have her torso be covered in gasoline or shiver in a sports bra. But she was reminded of the tattoo. She pulled her t-shirt away from sticking to her back but kept it on. She wasn’t answering questions about that. Allison reappeared in front of her and helped her stand. But her eyes were trained on Scott. Jules didn't want to look at him. She did want to know what he might be feeling.

“You need to shower.” Her hands were still shaking. Allison turned to Scott. “You both do.” Her voice was soft but strong. Jules could tell there was no saying no.

“We’ll get Isaac and Boyd.” Lydia said in regards to herself and Stiles. “Could you grab my stuff?” She asked Allison, Allison nodded. And proceeded to lead Jules back upstairs, the others in tow.

* * *

 

Jules sat wrapped in a raggedy towel on the toilet seat, her hair was dripping. Allison stood above her and cleaned the cut.

“You need some stitches.” Allison said nervously. “We should call-”

“It’s fine.” Jules said shortly. Her dizziness was fading quickly. “I trust you. I saw what you did for Scott.”

_And if we called an ambulance or any other qualified medical professional we'd have to explain._

Allison was uneasy. “Scott’s different.” Her voice was strained at the mention of him. “He’s already healed and he was unconscious. You’ll feel this.”

Jules stared at the bathtub. She wanted to throw up. “I know that. I’ve gotten stitches before.” She snapped. “What I’m saying is I don’t mind the pain.”

Allison sighed and brushed hair away from Jules’s temple. “Without numbing?” Allison was incredulous.

“Yes without numbing!” She said impatiently. “Just do it so I stop bleeding!” Jules urged.

Allison carefully began her stitches and Jules balled her hands into white knuckled fists. She was determined not to cry out in pain. But it was over within minutes and Jules washed the rest of the blood off of her face and out of her hair. Jules combed her hair and waited for it to dry into frizzy waves. Allison handed Jules her bag and exited the bathroom, leaving Jules alone.  She leaned over the sink and shook with tears she wouldn’t let fall. Just that morning werewolves didn’t exist, she looked at her friends and just saw teenagers. She was the one that was broken. She was the one keeping secrets. It wasn’t them. How could it have been them? The worst part was now that Jules knew, she wasn’t exactly surprised. This knowledge didn’t change her perception of the world. The world was still shit, only now there were actual monsters standing alongside the human ones. Perhaps someone would scream and cry and deny it all but Jules wouldn’t.

_You take the bad with good and you survive. You accept and you move on._

Jules brought her eyes up to look at herself in the grimy mirror. She had always liked the way she looked but there would always be things she didn’t want to see. A barely perceptible notch in her left brow, the chip of one of her teeth and the dull scars that littered her body.

Jules tossed the towel into the bathtub and quickly got dressed. Glad she’d had the sense to bring a thermal shirt. If she was going to spend the night on the school bus (it had been collectively decided that they would not sleep in the motel) then she might as well be warm. Her fleece sweatpants were soft against her legs as she trudged out of the bathroom. Her bag was swinging her hand and her soaking sneakers slid on the floor. She’d soaked them to rid them of gasoline but wet feet were worse somehow. Jules found solace in knowing she could put on socks once she got onto the bus. She met Allison outside, both girls walked in silence past their sleeping peers and strangers. No one knew what had just happened. Jules frowned, now understanding why Lydia was always with Allison and Scott and Stiles. Jules understood she had been the exception because she’d returned from nowhere. There was a divide between them and everyone else. The people who knew the secrets of the world were separate from the ones who didn't. Jules could see now the weight each of them carried. One god with the world on his back versus a group of teenagers. Jules knew Atlas was far better off than them.

_Am I part of that group now? It seems a little pre-emptive to assume. Although trying to talk a boy who is almost a stranger out of suicide while standing in gasoline must count for something. Not that I don’t owe him. But not that much._

“Jules.” Allison’s voice broke through the silence at the top of the stairs.

Jules sighed almost inaudibly “Yeah?” Her voice was tired. They were both so tired.

“I heard what you said to Scott. About nothing ever getting better.” Allison’s voice was small but strong, bleeding the quiet strength that Allison owned.

“Or worse.” Jules added, trying to lighten her statement, her truth.

“Can you really believe that? That nothing gets better?” She sounded so different from in the parking lot. She sounded as hopeless as Scott had. Like she wasn't asking for Jules or for Scott, but for herself.

Jules brought her eyes up to meet Allison’s “Yeah. I can.”

A flat ‘yes’ to a question that warranted a hard ‘no’. Jules watched Allison react to her blunt truth.

“How?” Her voice was just above a whisper.

Jules shrugged. “Because.” She said nonchalantly. “Things change. You like it or you don’t.” She gestured around. “Life doesn’t care what you like. But you must know that.”

“Yeah.” Allison sighed. “But what do you do? How can you just live and not think things will get better?”

Jules’s mouth was a hard line. “The optimist thinks this is the best of all possible worlds. The pessimist fears it is true.”

Allison scoffed. “How poetic.”

“It’s not mine. Oppenheimer.” Jules glanced at Allison; she looked dissatisfied, likely with Jules’s non-answer to her questions.

“Father of the atomic bomb.” Allison said to no one in particular.

Jules nodded. “I am become death…” She trailed off, not bothering to finish the quote. She thought it the only part that seemed fitting for the moment.

* * *

 

Stiles had fallen asleep in odd places and positions but he had decided that he would never again sleep on a school bus. It was restlessly silent and the panels of windows revealed everything outside. The stark empty desert and the godforsaken motel fought to keep sleep from him. He didn’t feel safe. He looked over at Scott; he was fast asleep just like everyone else. For Stiles sleep had come and gone, it was getting close to three AM and he was wide awake. Stiles huffed and tried to find a more comfortable position. He frowned and turned to the back of the bus, swearing he heard whispering. And that he had. It was Jules speaking in a hushed tone to Isaac, he lay sprawled in a seat  in front of her. He found that strange. He was sure they’d never spoken before. At least not in three years, but then again, what did he really know about Jules? But from what he knew about Isaac and from what he could infer about Jules.

_Those two might have a lot of common ground to stand on._

The thought was bordering on being bitter. Stiles was unsure as to what was bothering him about them talking. He wasn’t Isaac’s biggest fan but he knew it wasn’t his place to comment on her choice of conversationalist. Maybe it was that it was three AM and everyone should be asleep. But within another moment Isaac had laid back down. From what he could see of Jules’s face she looked less inclined to sleep. She looked like she hadn’t since they’d all climbed into the bus. Stiles had found it strange when she’d chosen a seat at the very back, away from Lydia and Allison. But it wasn’t odd if she hadn’t been intending on sleeping. Stiles watched her over his seat. Jules sat with her knees pulled into her chest and her eyes sliding from one window to another. She was keeping a diligent watch. Slowly and as silently as he could Stiles unfolded himself from the bench and made his way down the bus. She watched him and looked a little bewildered as he did. Stiles was unsure of what he was doing too. What was he going to do? Ask her why she couldn’t sleep? Or why she wouldn’t sleep? He heard what she had said to Scott. They all did. He was sure the only reason Jules and Lydia hadn’t talked about it yet was because there hadn’t been time.

Stiles sat down in the seat across from her, his elbows on his knees as he leaned into the aisle. Jules looked not just exhausted but also ill. The greenish hue of her veins stood out in the blue light of the night. He could see three distinct lines of thin scars peeking out under the collar of her shirt, three cuts all in a row. He looked away; those weren’t the kind of marks oneself inflicted. If Stiles pondered it long enough he could vividly imagine someone pinning her down and slicing her collar bone. She didn’t say anything. Stiles had thought she would. Jules had a sharp tongue; he had hoped she’d say the first word.

“How are you?” he whispered.

She quirked an eyebrow. “It isn’t me you should be asking.” Her light blue eyes flicked to Scott and then settle eerily on him. “How are you?”

Stiles didn’t answer. “It’s been a long day.” He remarked.

She leaned her head back on the window; her eyes stared unblinking at the roof of the bus. “Oh really?” 

Stiles watched as she pulled her sleeves over her hands. She looked small, younger than she was. Stiles figured it was the baggy clothes and the loose hair and the way she’d curled herself around her legs that made her look so much younger. He could imagine her looking the same at a different motel, on a different night with different people, just enough months younger to make a difference. This might have been how she looked in the ninth or tenth grade if he’d known her then. But he hadn’t. No one on the west side of Texas had.

“You should try to sleep.” Stiles said softly.

Jules shrugged and she looked back to him. He could see a shadow pass over her face, a ghost of whatever things she had seen. Stiles sighed. Jules had seen some of the worst humans had to offer, he wondered if he was better off with monsters. But he had to remind himself that werewolves thought like he did. That they were just people with claws.

“I just want to sit.” She whispered back in a weak voice.

Stiles nodded. He understood why she would want to be alone, maybe it was him who needed the company. Stiles moved back to the front of the bus. Leaving Jules staring back out into the night.

* * *

 

Jules spent a considerable amount of time wondering why he had walked back there. What was it that made him care if she had slept? Was it that he was awake? She wondered about Stiles. She had noticed him in middle school. Not in the way most boys that age had wanted to be noticed by girls, but she had noticed him and Scott. The way that all they had was each other and the way that Stiles would be the first out of the class at lunch so that he could be the first to ask Lydia if they wanted to share a table at lunch. Neither Jules nor Lydia had ever responded to these requests for they were immature. But that wasn’t all she remembered from him. Jules remembered running errands with her mother and following her into the police station. This had happened a few times and she had always noticed the focused boy sitting on the bench outside the Sheriff’s office. With his face in a book or game. Jules had never known his name only that they went to school together. Once when she’d broken her arm the nurse who had been so kind to her had a son waiting for her in the room with Jules’s sister. Jules knew now that had been Scott. She looked to them, both asleep.  Her eyes fell on Isaac and Boyd. She hadn’t known them either, because unlike Scott and Stiles they were quiet and always had been. What she did know about Boyd was that his younger sister was dead. Jules wondered if Boyd and Gail had ever crossed paths while she was gone. She wondered if Erica had any siblings, she didn’t think so. Isaac had a dead brother. What she knew about them was their pain, like what they knew about her was that she'd been missing. Jules huffed. Each teenager in that bus was branded with a tragedy. Everyone seemed to carry an individual horror. She glanced at Isaac's sleeping face through the cracks between the windows and the benches. Isaac stirred in his sleep again; Jules sat up to peer over into his seat. He was still asleep. When Isaac had awoken gasping for breath Jules hadn’t said anything until he spoke. He’d said,

“I guess you know what that’s like.”

“That” Jules guessed was the nightmare. She had said she did but asked why he thought so.

“Because you’re not sleeping.” He had pointed out.

Jules had wanted to ask if it was his brother that found him in his sleep or something else. But he’d spoken instead.

“I’m Isaac by the way.”

“I know. I’m Jules.” She had given him a small smile.

“Yeah.” He said with touch of sadness to his voice. “I know.” Then he had looked at her strangely, Jules still hadn’t pinpointed his expression. “I never forgot.”

Jules had pressed her lips into a fine line. “What do you mean?”

Isaac sat up. “Some people forgot. They pretended that bad things didn’t happen to people in this town. They pretended you never existed.” His thought process must have been uninhibited by the haziness of sleep. Jules didn’t mind, he was telling her the truth. The truth, no matter how terrible, would always be better than a lie.

“I know. It helps them sleep while we don’t.” Her voice was almost inaudible but he was a werewolf, there was little he didn’t hear.

Isaac snorted and laid back down. “Goodnight Jules.” He had muttered.

“Goodnight Isaac.” She had said.

And those were the only words she had ever spoken to Isaac Lahey. Both of them decimated by exhaustion and free of brain to mouth filters. Jules doubted how well either of them would remember the conversation in the morning but she liked that it had happened. She liked that he’d told her the truth; he hadn’t danced around it or lied through omission. Granted, it would be horrifyingly awkward should they ever address it again which meant Jules was sure they probably wouldn’t. But it did give her hope for one thing.  She might find another friend in Isaac and maybe even Boyd once he woke up. Shared experience made for excellent talking points, but this night was one to be forgotten. Jules supposed it would be like what happened to her. An unspoken truth that prowled beneath the surface of every word she spoke and everything she did. She would never forget this night but like many others Jules knew she might never speak of it again.

* * *

 

Jules woke up to her least favourite sound, the voice of coach Finstock. She resented having fallen asleep but expected it would have happened eventually.

“I don’t wanna know.” He said as she peeled her eyes open. “I really don’t wanna know.”

_No you don’t_.

She wore a bitter expression on her face and felt tempted to walk up and smack him.

“But in case you missed the announcement the meets cancelled so we’re heading home.”

“All this for nothing.” She muttered angrily. She heard Isaac laugh hollowly. 

“Pack it in.” Coach said. “Pack it in!”

Jules rubbed her eyes, “God what does that even mean?” As she brought her head up she saw Ethan sit down next to Scott. Anger bubbled up in her chest and she quickly moved to sit next to Stiles right behind them.

“Morning.” Stiles mumbled.

She groaned.

“I don’t know what happened last night but I’m pretty sure you saved my life.” Ethan said to Scott.

“I actually we saved your life.” Stiles gestured to himself and Jules and across the aisle to Allison. “But not that it matters that much. It’s just- it’s minor details.” Stiles rambled.

Jules kicked at Ethan’s ankle, he pretended not to notice.

“So I’m gonna give you something.”

She stopped her antics.

“We’re pretty sure Derek’s still alive.” Ethan said.

Scott looked back to Stiles and Jules shot them both a confused look.

“But he killed one of ours.” Ethan continued.

_Murder. Let’s discuss it like you couldn’t go to jail._

“That means one of two things can happen. Either he joins our pack…”

“And kills his own.” Scott finished the sentence for him.

_What? I’m sorry, what?_

Jules gave Stiles a very surprised expression that she hoped communicated how ridiculous she thought this was.

“Or Kali goes after him, and we kill him. That’s the way it works.” Ethan stated.

Jules resumed aiming sharp kicks at his feet. “I’ll see you and your friends in court pal.” She hissed.

“You know your little code of ethics there is sort or barbaric.” Stiles pointed out. “Just F.Y.I.”

Ethan left without another word. Jules tried to trip him as she moved over to sit behind Lydia but he easily out maneuvered her.

“Coach can I see your whistle for a second?” Lydia jumped out of her seat and took it off of his neck. Jules thought the action was extremely inappropriate but that seemed to just be her. Jules noticed a strange stain on his t-shirt, something blue or purple.

“I’m gonna need that back.” He said as he moved down the bus to talk to Ethan.

Lydia sat down across from Stiles and Jules moved back to her spot behind him. Lydia blew into the whistle and covered a part of it with her hand, obscuring the sound. Lydia then held up her hand.

“Wolfsbane.” She said.

Jules had no idea what that meant but it couldn’t have meant good things for the werewolves judging by her friend’s faces.

“So every time the coach blew the whistle on the bus, Scott, Isaac, Boyd-” Stiles listed.

“And Ethan.” Lydia added.

“We all inhaled it.” Scott said.

“You were all poisoned by it.” Allison said, likely for Jules’s benefit.

“So that’s how the Darach got in their heads.” Stiles though out loud. “That’s how he did it.”

“Or she. But statistically men are more likely to commit violent crimes.” Jules added, though she knew her comment was redundant, just a restatement of facts for herself. Reminding her that she could apply human logic to inhuman things.

Stiles snatched the whistle from Lydia’s hand and forced open the window, causing Scott to duck down. Coach was yelling at him.

“Stilinski!” He shouted angrily.

Jules stared at the coach. This man wasn’t a dark druid. She tapped Stiles on the shoulder and he turned around.

“Coach keeps those whistles in his office wouldn’t he?” Jules asked him.

Stiles nodded and frowned, not liking where Jules was going.

“It would have to be someone with access who did this.” She said.

“Anyone at the school could get in. He forgets to lock it.” Stiles told her.

Jules huffed and fell back into her seat. Every horrible thing that had happened since yesterday amounted to nothing. Not even a stupid race. She stood up and stalked to the back of the bus where her things were, knocking into an angry coach as she went. Jules collapsed back into her seat and picked up her phone.

_Shit. I have to call my mother._


	8. It's a long story.

**Author Note: This chapter takes place between Motel California and Currents.**

** Chapter Eight – It's a long story.**

* * *

 

Jules was silent the entire drive home. She was eager to collapse into the realm of sleep. Her father didn’t say a word. But she could feel his nervous glances whenever the car stopped at a sign or a light and Jules wondered what they could be about. It had occurred to her that Charlotte hadn’t come and that this was odd. Jules had expected a welcome home like a war hero and a fretful interrogation about her day away. She was worried that something had happened, something must be bothering her mother if she didn’t come. Jules’s mind went to what was now her stalker but this person was no fool. They wouldn’t tip off her parents. Jules knew she should be more concerned but that was low on the list of priorities at the moment. Jules watched the trees and homes of Beacon Hills as they drove. And in a strange way she missed New York. Despite the horror she experienced the city had been enchanting. She had lazy afternoons in the countless parks and had explored the boroughs. She’d seen shows on Broadway and the light of Times Square. It wasn’t the place that made her sick; it was the people she was with. People, she hoped, would spend the rest of their lives in prison.

_But that’s up to me isn’t it?_

* * *

 

As soon as Jules crossed the threshold into her home and the door was shut behind her Charlotte appeared waving a small piece of paper.

“Charlie she’s exhausted.” Noah said, he sounded like he was pleading with his wife.

Charlotte ignored him and looked to her daughter with the air of a mad woman. Jules prepared for a lecture about the cleanliness of her room. Charlotte held up the slip of paper.

“What is this?” She asked harshly.

Jules didn't look closely at it. “Garbage?” She guessed.

Charlotte placed on hand on her hip and held out the paper to her daughter. Jules peered at it. It was the ripped piece of a notebook that Stiles had handed to her with his phone number on it.

“It’s a phone number.” Jules stated, not seeing the issue.

Charlotte was livid. Jules glanced at her father who was looking anywhere but his wife, completely mortified. “Are there others?” Charlotte’s voice was shrill.

“Well most people have phones.” Jules said cautiously. “You have one.” She pointed out, still not seeing the problem.

“Charlie.” Noah said in a stiff voice, he stepped in front of his daughter. “You promised you’d let this go.”

Charlotte was furious; it appeared she was upset with both of them. She stepped around her husband and faced her daughter. “Do you have other phone numbers just lying around? Who is giving these to you? Why are you accepting them?” She bombarded Jules with what she thought were absurd questions, still stepping closer to her daughter. Jules stood her ground and wore her confusion.

“What?” She looked up to her father with pleading eyes. Noah put his hand on Charlotte’s shoulder.

“Why did you want to go on that trip Juliet? What did you do in that hotel?” Charlotte’s voice was cold and Jules felt ice form in her veins. She could say anything or move. Had her mother just said that to her? Had that just happened? Before Jules could respond Noah had begun shouting at Charlotte. Their vices fell into white noise.

_What?_

Jules slipped by her parents who were now too focused on each other and pounded up the stairs to her bedroom. All she could hear was her mother screaming.

“I need to know! I need to know what really happened! I need to know what took so long!” Charlotte was sobbing and shrieking.

Jules could hear the deep tones of her father’s voice, he was calming down to ease his wife. Jules slammed her bedroom door shut and moved to lock it. But the lock that had been there when she was child was gone, she was sure it had been removed while she was in Eichen house. Jules felt defeated. She didn’t want to think about the implications of her mother’s hysteria. She didn’t want to know what she might think the truth is. She didn’t want her parents to fight. She didn’t want to prepare for a trial. She didn’t want a stalker. She didn’t want werewolves to be real. There were so many things she didn’t want she wondered if there was anything that she did want. She kicked off her shoes and socks and tossed herself onto her bed and let her hair down. Within seconds she was drifting off to sleep but the question still bounced around inside her head.

_What do you want?_

* * *

 

By the time Jules was dressed the next morning she knew what she wanted. At least short term. She wanted the long story. The one that started with a bite. She also wanted out of her house. Noah had slept on the coach and Charlotte had spent the entire night pacing. Jules heard her mother’s shuffling feet every time she’d woken up. Noah was a restless quiet during their breakfast. Always opening his mouth and shutting it, searching for words. Maybe to apologize for what Charlotte had said or to try and make small talk with the stranger disguised as his daughter. Either way they ate in silence and then Jules took her meds and left. He asked for no explanation where. Jules didn’t want to bike. She wanted to feel the ground under her feet as she walked. But when it was time for her to turn one way down her street at the end of her driveway Jules had no idea where to go. She pulled out her phone and dialed his number. She hoped she wasn’t waking him up. She hoped he wanted to talk. She hoped he would answer. After a few rings Jules was going to hang up. She didn’t want to bother him. But then Stiles answered.

“Hello?” He sounded energetic, happy even. If it was possible for him to feel that way after what had happened just two nights before. Jules was quiet, still debating if she could hang up.

“Jules?” He asked.

_Damn caller ID._

“Yeah.” Her voice was shrill. She cleared her throat. “Hey.” Jules took a breath; she hated speaking on the phone and avoided it at all costs. “Are you busy?”

_What a stupid question. It’s ten AM on a Saturday. No one is busy._

“No.” he answered. “Why?”

“Cool.” Jules blurted out. She smacked herself on the forehead and glanced back to her house. She spotted her mother watching her from an upstairs window. Fear crawled into her throat. “I mean uh, do you feel like talking?”

There was an uneasy silence at the end of the line. “About?”

“That long story.” Her voice was quiet and slow. He took a moment to say anything back. “Or not!” She waved her one hand around then realized he couldn’t see her physically dismissing the idea. “This is a bad time, okcoolbye.” Her words blended together.

“Jules!” He shouted through the phone.

She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Yes?” She asked tentatively.

“Now is fine. Do you know where I live? Or do you want me to come to you?”

Jules let out a short laugh. She doubted any member of the opposite gender would be entering the house upon her invitation ever, at least not without a world class smuggler. “What’s your address Stiles?”

* * *

 

It turned out Stiles didn’t live far away; the walk was under twenty minutes. Jules scolded herself for thinking he would for some reason live in a different area. Her street was full of deputies and paramedics and firefighters. That was the neighborhood. She shouldn’t be surprised that the Sheriff lived nearby. His house looked like most of the ones in the neighborhood, though more unkempt. The grass wasn’t cut, the bushes were overgrown and the paint on the window sills and doorframe chipped, in need of a new coat. Jules frowned, that was the kind of work she, Gail and her father had used to do. Mostly for relatives and one of their neighbors when she’d gotten sick.  It was the kind of work Jules could do on her own now, she thought maybe she should offer as she hopped up the creaky porch steps. But she decided that would be a little odd. Jules didn’t see a doorbell so she knocked; paint chips fell from the door. This was the home of people who didn’t have time to care what it looked like, people with more important things on their minds. It didn’t perturb Jules; the superficiality of most neighborhoods had always bothered her anyways. The door opened so fast Jules wondered if Stiles had been waiting near it. She pushed the idea out of her head, there’s no reason he would have been. She smiled at Stiles. She knew how forced it was, how it must have looked. She probably shouldn’t have one it.

“Hey.” She said and bounced on the balls of her feet, her hands shoved in her jacket pockets. Jules knew she had been careless when she’d gotten dressed, tossing on her usual jeans and t-shirt ensemble. Now that she stood in the doorway of someone she hardly knew Jules felt that she should have tried harder. Maybe put on makeup or curled her hair instead of wrestling it into braids. With a smile and an awkward wave of his hand Stiles invited her inside.

He shut the door as quietly as possible. “Is your dad home?” She asked him.

“Nah, at the station. He might have been there all night.” Stiles said absentmindedly.

Jules wondered if they crossed paths more at crimes scenes then in their home. Stiles sat down at his kitchen table and Jules followed his lead and took the seat across from him. She wondered whose chair she was sitting in. The table without a head. Was this where the Sheriff sat or did this chair belong to his late wife or was it the unoccupied fourth? If it had any meaning Stiles wasn’t letting on.

“Do you want anything or…” He trailed off and watched her as her eyes darted around his home.

Jules noted that the home was clean but unorganized. Almost every plate and glass she could see was different and there were various file folders everywhere. The refrigerator was covered in photos; she spotted one of a smiling brunette woman with beautiful brown eyes. Jules looked away. That must have been Stiles’s mother.

_Beautiful brown eyes._

She avoided his and let the thought die.

“No, I’m alright.” She finally said and drummed her hands in front of her on the table but stopped when she noticed he was doing the same. Jules remembered how his hand had felt in hers, the first time when it was one of the few things keeping her tethered to the present. And the second time, when they were both fearing for their lives in front of a spectacle of flames. She leaned back in the chair and raised her eyes to his.

“So.” She said lightly. “Let’s hear it.”

* * *

 

Stiles couldn’t believe the way Jules was looking at him. He had just told her a story. A horrible, terrifying story and she was looking at him like he was the most fascinating thing she had ever seen. Stiles had to remind himself it was the story. She would have looked at Scott or Lydia or Allison liked that. Right? He could only describe her expression as awe. He was recounting some of the worst events of his life and she was hanging onto every word. Listening to him ramble off topic and crack ill-timed jokes. She even laughed quietly at some of them. He wondered how. Stiles would admit he felt uniquely vulnerable. He had never had to sit someone down and retell everything from the beginning. He hadn’t wanted to. But if she was going to listen so intently and watch so closely and pay so much attention Stiles would be happy to talk for the rest of the day. No one had ever wanted to hear this story. Melissa and Allison and Lydia hadn’t wanted to sit down and listen to tales of horror and monsters they wished didn’t exist. He thought about Lydia. She had been dark about the truth for so long and she’d still faced her boyfriend the murderous lizard and didn’t back down. She’d still held him as he died and watched him rise again only for him to leave. Stiles could see how those two were friends. From the outside Jules and Lydia seemed different, or they did now. But Stiles hadn’t spent his entire childhood entranced by Lydia not to acknowledge Jules. But when he was thirteen he was considerably less mature then he was at fifteen or sixteen. He painted a picture of the two girls. A picture that worked for him. Lydia who must have harbored love for him and Jules who must have known. Jules who never left Lydia’s side. Jules who was quiet in the classroom and loud in the school yard. She was the cruel bite to Lydia’s crueler bark. Stiles had heard stories about Jules cornering the idiotic boys who pulled their hair and snapped the straps of their undershirts. Those boys had never done anything of the like to anyone again. Jules didn’t tolerate that nonsense. She still didn’t it would seem. But Stiles still hadn’t seen her. She had been an extension of Lydia, one that disappeared before they both grew up. Before he thought maybe he should look at her. He remembered how devastated Lydia had been when Jules dissapeared. He remembered how Allison was the first close friend she had since Jules. He remembered how there'd been a debate to put up a memorial. But Charlotte had refused. She'd refused to believe her daughter was really gone.

Now Juliet Hayes sat across from him with stray curls spilling into her face. Alive and braver and stronger then she might get credit for. She was a real person now, not an accessory to someone who was now one of his closest friends. Lydia, who he loved, Stiles didn't know in what way. He didn't know what had changed. What he was sure of was that both Jules and Lydia were independent entities. Both of them terrifying in their own right. 

Her eyes were locked on his and she was quiet. He had talked for a long time, it felt like hours but Stiles was sure only half an hour had passed. Late morning sun lit up the dust in the room and the look in her eyes. Stiles knew if he leaned close enough he’d be able to see his own reflection. He of course didn’t do so, because that would be weird and frankly a little creepy. But he could see lines of navy and green shining in the bright blue of her eyes. Few people he knew had blue eyes. Stiles cleared his throat and looked away before the amount of staring going on became uncomfortable for her. He wasn’t sure how she felt about being in a strange house with a boy by herself but he didn’t want to push boundaries. He didn’t want her to leave.

* * *

 

Jules let out a soft whistle. She had to say something, but what? She couldn’t say she understood something she hadn’t experienced. And she couldn’t tell him anything that would make telling that story any easier. The realization that this is how people felt around her smacked Jules hard in the face.

_When someone gives you something horrible and unbelievable and they trust you with it, what are you supposed to do?_

“Damn.” She said softly and then scolded herself internally.

_Not that. You could have said anything and you choose that? What is the matter with me?_

Stiles snorted but stayed otherwise quiet.

She arched an eyebrow and felt an odd pang when his eyes left hers. “You? Have nothing to say? You?” She mocked astonishment and Stiles smiled. It was small but it was there. She was glad, considering he hadn’t done so since she’d walked through the door. His smile suited him, more so then Jules’s suited her. She practiced smiling in the mirror. It never seemed genuine enough, bight enough or happy enough. It was just enough to keep up a façade, to suffice when she needed it to. And Jules knew how much she used to smile. It broke her heart that it didn’t fit anymore.

“No questions?” He asked playfully.

“Too many to ask in one day. Especially since you won’t have the answer to most of them.” She kept her eyes on him and hoped he’d look back to her. She wondered why he’d looked away.

“Like what?” He drummed his hands, his eyes on them.

“Well one big one.” She huffed. “How does magic work?”

Stiles held up his hand. “We don’t call it magic.”

“Then what do you call it?” She asked sincerely.

“I like to use a long string of swearing and unintelligible screaming, but that’s just me.” He spoke through humor. Anyone could see that. But it seemed incongruous that they were sitting there making snappy remarks back and forth when just two nights before they’d both poured their hearts out into a parking lot. Jules wondered how he could recover so fast or if he was a better actor then she was. She knew she looked tired, she knew she was jumpy, Jules knew that everyone she met could tell something was wrong with her. But her friends weren’t like that, Stiles wasn’t like that. Jules wondered if she should envy them or pity them for it. They couldn’t ask for help with their fight since a huge part of it was keeping it hidden. But Jules knew that was part of her to. Keeping things hidden. They weren’t so different and it pained her to know that.

The pair fell into silence but it wasn’t as uncomfortable as Jules expected it might be. Unspoken words and questions passed between them. The night at the Glen Capri hovered over them like a dark cloud and her panic in the bus occupied Jules’s thoughts. Mainly how Stiles, a boy she hardly knew had been able to calm her thoughts and pull her back. He’d known what to say and when to say it and what lines to cross. He had guessed what Lydia knew about her and did everything right. Jules looked from her still hands to him. Stiles’s eyes were on her again and she felt oddly comforted. He wasn’t afraid to look at her. He didn’t treat her like glass. He wasn’t holding back. She loved Lydia but since Jules had returned she hoped she and Lydia would fall into their old rapport. Their biting jabs that covered a mutual understanding that it was them against the small world of Beacon Hills. Lydia would no longer poke fun at Jules’s quirks and vice versa. It was all so serious all the time. She wanted Lydia to act with Jules the way she did with Allison. Freedom to pester and poke fun but it had all changed. So she kept her eyes trained on the boy in front of her and blew a strand of hair out of her face. He had never known her before, he only knew her now. And she liked that. She liked that a lot.

* * *

**So this ones pretty short so I'll probably post the next one sooner. I'd like to say thanks for the feedback and hope people are enjoying :)**

 

* * *

 


	9. Currents

~~~~

**Warning: There’s talk of drug addiction in this chapter.**

** Chapter Nine – Currents **

* * *

 

Jules wasn’t tired. She was ready for bed, her family was asleep but anxiety was keeping her awake. She was always waiting for Stiles or Lydia or someone to call, she was waiting for the aftermath of the motel. Surely something must be about to happen? Jules knew that a watched phone didn’t ring. She knew that she shouldn’t wish for something to happen. But she had been a bit of an adrenalin junkie before, maybe now that part of her was coming back. And then as if on cue her phone began to buzz. She leapt for it and answered.

“Scott thinks there been another sacrifice, meet me at Beacon memorial!” Stiles’s voice was urgent; she could hear his jeep running. She felt the familiar rush of anticipation.

“Stiles where are you? I’m gonna need a ride.” She whispered, hoping not to wake her parents. If she did, Jules didn’t want to know what kind of trouble she might land herself in.

For a moment Stiles was quiet. “Yeah, okay, what’s your address?” He spoke quickly.

“You know my street? Meet me at the end of it. I’ll be there.” She ordered and hung up before he could say anything else. She knew a car stopping in front of her house and the slam of the door would wake her mother.

Jules leapt to her feet and rushed around, changing out of her pajamas and into actual clothes. She zipped her phone into her jacket pocket and froze. She couldn’t get out through the front door without passing her parents room, but that had always been a problem. Jules went into the bathroom she and Gail used to share and opened the window. The screen had been gone for years, Gail hadn’t believed in curfew. Her stomach dropped when she realized that the tree she and her sister used to climb off of the roof and safely down onto the ground was gone. She gaged the drop. What was it? Thirteen, maybe fourteen feet? Jules stepped out onto the roof and shut the window behind her. She slid the wedge that had lived there for years into it, making a space she could use to open it later. Her heart pounded, she knew the consequences if her mother found out. Jules suppressed a smile. What she was doing was such a teen cliché she couldn’t help but feel a spark of joy. Sneaking out was normal. In one swift movement Jules jumped from the roof. She landed in a roll into a crouch. She got to her feet.

_I could so do parkour._

With one last glance at her dark and sleepy house Jules took off in a sprint down her street. She ran on the grass of people’s lawn to avoid the noise of her boots in the sidewalk. The night was cold; a sign that summer was fast disappearing. The air bit through her thin jacket and stung her face. Jules didn’t care and relished in the hammering of her heart and the heaviness of her breathing as she came to a stop at the end of her street. A pair of headlights barreled down the road and slowed as she stepped out of the shadows of someone’s home.

She ran to meet the jeep in the road and climbed into the passenger seat. Stiles shot her a quick but forced looking smile and began driving again.

“So another sacrifice?” She asked urgently.

“Maybe two. Healers. Both of them didn’t show up at the hospital. One of their cars drove into the parking lot without her in it.” He explained, he was drumming his hands on the steering wheel as they sped through their silent neighborhood. Stiles always had an urgent air about him; it became more noticeable when something might actually be happening.

Jules nodded. “Does your dad know yet?”

Stiles shook his head, “I think we’ll get there before he does. Scott’s at the hospital already.”

They both fell quiet. Jules wasn’t sure what to say. She and Stiles had spoken little since she’d left his house after he’d told her what she assumed was everything. Jules couldn’t help but feel awkward about the whole thing. She felt like an intruder in his world.

_Well tonight he invited me._

“How’d you get out?” He asked curiously.

“I jumped from my bathroom window.” She said calmly.

“Jumped?” He sounded shocked. “That’s like fifteen feet, why would you do that? Are you hurt?” For a second he sounded genuinely concerned.

_“Are you hurt?” Dude, obviously not._

She shrugged. “It’s no big deal. It’s not like I could just walk out the front door.”

Stiles shot her another concerned look but said nothing. Jules wondered what he was thinking.

_He has to know that most people’s parents don’t condone them just leaving home._

Jules mentally kicked herself.

_His dad isn’t home._

* * *

 

One they arrived the parking lot was frenzy. Jules hung back while Scott and Stiles spoke with the Sheriff. She didn’t want to risk him knowing she was there and then crossing paths with her father. Jules tried not to imagine the disaster that would ensue.

_If she thinks I’m going on class trips to do what? Pimp myself out to my classmates? God forbid she finds out that I sneak out now to._

As soon as she saw Scott and Stiles step away from the Sheriff she rejoined them.

“These are definitely sacrifices, right?” Scott confirmed.

“Yeah it’s the one Deaton mentioned.” Stiles answered.

“Healers.” Jules elaborated.

“What about Danny he threw up mistletoe. That’s not a coincidence and if he hadn’t been with Ethan he probably would have died. Danny’s not a healer.” Scott pointed out.

“Danny?” Jules asked worriedly. “What happened to Danny?”

“He threw up mistletoe.” Stiles stated.

Jules rolled her eyes. “Thank you that’s very helpful.” Her voice was dripping sarcasm.

Jules was worried about Danny. And she wished she could say her reasoning was entirely selfless. But Jules needed Danny, and she needed time to ask him about that text. Jules looked to Stiles like Scott did for answers. Stiles didn’t say anything; his eyes were on his father. He pointed.

“Can you hear that?” 

Jules watched as the Sheriff took a phone call, judging by his somber expression, it wasn’t good.

Scott listened for a moment. “They found a body.”

Jules felt like someone was reaching inside of her gut and twisting.

_People are dying and I’m worrying about if my parents know I snuck out._

Jules frowned and told herself to get a grip. She had more important things to focus on.

“So now what?” She asked them.

Scott looked back to the Sheriff and then to Stiles and Jules. “We go home. It’s too late.” He sounded defeated.

Jules didn’t know what to say. She hardly knew how to act around Scott since the motel. But she knew he was right, there wasn’t anything they could do. Jules remembered how it felt to listen to him say that there was no hope. She hated that he might be right.

* * *

 

Stiles kept looking to Jules as he drove. She was quiet. He could tell she was thinking about something. Her brow was furrowed and her mouth a hard line. He just didn’t know what about. Was it the sacrifices? Or something else? Jules brought her hand to her mouth and then back down again, like she might have thought about biting her nails. He did that. He knew how bad of a habit it was. 

_Virgins, warriors and healers._

The Darach was almost done with the healers; he expected to hear that Hilyard was dead by the morning. Stiles still couldn’t figure out what purpose making werewolves suicidal had. If it was just to scare them it worked. But he couldn’t help but feel there had to be more behind it. Like pieces were being moved into place. He didn’t think it was a coincidence that the same day Jules had found out was the same day she was forced to try and save someone she barely knew. He didn’t think it was just by chance they all ended up together. That of all people Lydia was with them. He felt like a piece on a chess board, he felt like they all were. Stiles just wondered which piece he was.

“Stiles.” Jules’s voice broke the silence. She sounded shy. They were approaching her street.

“Yeah?” He responded tiredly.

“I have no idea how I’m supposed to get back into my house.” Her voice bubbled with laughter. He couldn’t help but crack a smile.

“Are you serious?” He glanced at her, eyebrows raised.

She nodded and burst out laughing. “I jumped from the window! I didn’t think it through!”

“Yeah, obviously.” He shook his head while she tried to contain herself.

“It’s okay. I think I can get onto my roof from my dad’s shed on the side. It’s only like eight or nine feet, but I could use a leg up.” She looked to him and quirked an eyebrow.

He nodded; still somewhat disbelieving she had jumped out of her window without a second thought to how she would get back in. He stopped the car and they climbed out into the dark night. He didn’t have to worry about getting in much trouble with his dad. It was rare they were even at home at the same time. And Stiles’s father was used to his son’s shenanigans. Stiles couldn’t help but hope it would get easier for Jules. He thought back to her panic on the bus and the night at the hotel. She had more than enough to contend with without trouble at home. He looked back down to her, studying her. Her light eyes were on the dark street ahead and darting around them. He noticed that she walked with a silent grace with her hands poised at her sides. She looked ready for anything, be it fight or flight. Stiles knew that kind of paranoia was learned, he knew that it would be with her for the rest of her life. The pair walked in comfortable silence as she continued to cast glances over her shoulder. Stiles would do the same on a bad day. She walked slower as they approached her home. She stopped him and carefully studied her house.

“Okay.” She whispered. Stiles wasn’t sure what she meant by it but when she moved he followed her. The tree line to the left and back of her home cast menacing shadows around them. Stiles wondered if it ever freaked her out, but she didn’t seem perturbed. They stopped close to the back of her home. Stiles now understood what she had meant by being able to get to her roof. From the top of the rusty old shed it was about two and a half feet above it. An easy climb. Stiles stood awkwardly next to her as she shook the old looking structure, testing if it could hold her weight. She shrugged and smiled nervously at him.

“Just give me a leg up and I’ll be fine.” Her voice was just above a whisper. Nervous energy buzzed off of her, Stiles couldn't help but wonder how bad things were in her home. He shook off the thought, it wasn't his business, her problems weren't his to pry into. Even if he was worried.

Stiles crouched down and laced his fingers together; she put her one foot in his hands and pulled herself up as he pushed. Stiles held in a laugh as she awkwardly scrambled on to the roof of the shed. Creating far more noise than either of them would have liked. She froze in a crouch as she tried to stay quiet. Stiles shot her sardonic thumbs up. She glowered at him. And then a light blinked on inside her house. Stiles wasn’t sure if he had ever seen a look of terror as pure as her’s in that moment. At least while facing something non-life threatening. He felt a surge of anger. Was she really that terrified of her parents?

“Oh my god.” She mouthed. Her hands were shaking.

“It’s fine. I’m sure its fine.” He mouthed back.

Stiles was not sure it was fine. His heart hammered as someone in the nearest bedroom walked around. He heard the voices of her mother and father but he couldn’t make out what they were saying. After another moment of tense silence from Stiles and Jules the light switched off. He let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding and heard Jules do the same. She waited for about half a minute until pulling herself onto her roof as quickly as she could. She gave Stiles a small and forced looking smile and then crept along the top of her porch. Stiles followed from the ground and watched as she slid open her window, cast him another glance and slipped inside.

And then Stiles ran. That was the scariest moment of the night. He knew of her father. He was an intimidating man and her mother was a lawyer. From what he knew about lawyer’s they weren’t people one should cross. As soon as he was clear of her yard he slowed back into a walk. Stiles had always wished that his father was around more, that he had more attention to spare. He looked back to Jules’s dark home. Realizing that she was probably wishing for just the opposite.

* * *

 

“Did you hear something outside last night?” Noah asked over his newspaper.

Jules almost dropped her spoon in her oatmeal.

_Is he testing me? Is this a test? Does he already know? If I lie am I digging myself a bigger hole? But I can't tell the truth so..._

“No.” She said in a steady voice. “I couldn’t get to sleep last night, so I took one of the pills. There could have been a mariachi band playing in the attic and I wouldn’t have known.” She spat out quickly and shot her father a toothy grin. He didn’t seem bothered. And excitement bubbled up inside of Jules.

_I got away with it._

She was quick to inhale the rest of her breakfast and run out the door. Jules wanted absolutely nothing to do with whatever thoughts were going through her father’s head. She noted that her mother’s car was already gone.

As Jules biked to school her thoughts strayed to whoever had made it their personal mission to make her miserable. Who was dredging up her past and waving it in front of her. Who she hadn’t heard from in days. Jules had thought after the text there would have been more escalation. Was she cursing herself to think that something should have happened by now? Regardless, Jules knew she needed to figure out something to do and she needed to do it quick. She had nothing to take to the police. And she knew what this could do to the limited freedom her parents had given her. Jules was walking on thin ice on that front. And she was taking heavy steps. But besides that she was furious with her mother. Jules wanted an apology and she wanted it now. But it hadn’t come. By the time she arrived at school she was stewing in rage she couldn’t do anything about. She spotted Lydia making her way inside.

_I can complain._

She locked up her bike and tore after her friend, colliding with several students on her way. Jules caught up with Lydia.

“Hey.” Jules said breathlessly.

Lydia was touching up her lipstick. “Mm.” She replied.

“My mother is a heinous bitch.” She said flatly.

Lydia rounded on Jules, eyebrows raised. “What?”

“She basically called me a slut and I’m pretty sure she doesn’t believe that I was missing against my own free will.” She said candidly. Jules wasn’t upset over it anymore, just bitter. There was nothing that suggested she had ever felt anything besides anger towards her mother’s words.

“Jules.” Her voice was soft. “Are you sure?”

“No, I made that up.” She deadpanned. “Seriously Lydia? Would you put it past her?” Jules sounded exasperated.

Lydia looked contemplative for a moment. Charlotte Hayes was over protective, over bearing and over dramatic. “I didn't think she would say that out loud.” Her voice was serious.

“Okay well she didn’t use those words.” Jules admitted. She felt nauseous. What if Lydia didn’t believe her? Who was she supposed to go to about this?

_You have a therapist moron. You could tell her the next time you talk._

“Have you talked to Gail about it?” Lydia asked.

Jules’s stomach dropped. “No.” She said quietly. “I haven’t been talking to Gail as much as I should be.”

Lydia quirked an eyebrow.

Jules scoffed. “I’ve been busy if you haven’t noticed! There’s a lot on my mind with-”

Lydia huffed, interrupting Jules “Is there something you aren’t telling me? Because Jules-”

“I can go to you about anything blah, blah, blah I get it.” She cut Lydia off harshly. “Lydia this isn’t about me, it’s about her. Why would she say that?”

The question hung in the air and Jules doubted Lydia didn’t know what to say.

“I don’t know.” Lydia said, defeated.

Jules clenched her jaw. “That wasn’t exactly the answer I was looking for.”

Lydia pursed her lips as Jules began to walk past her. “Jules.”

The blonde turned back around. “I’ve gotta go.” She said irritably, and hating the feeling of Lydia's eyes on her back as she walked away.

* * *

 

Jules tuned out Miss Blake as she explained her presence in a class she did not teach. A balled up piece of paper was tossed at her back. She turned around, unimpressed with Stiles’s method of catching her attention.

“Can I help you?” She hissed.

He rolled his eyes. “My dad said that he ER attending wasn’t strangled but did die from asphyxiation. They just don’t know how.”

Jules began to run through every way of asphyxiating she knew.

_Being smothered, lack of oxygen, strangulation, paralysis…_   _kanima venom is a paralytic and it wouldn’t show up on an autopsy report only Stiles is still alive so clearly victims can breathe…_

“Do you think the on-call doctor could still be alive?” Scott asked, ending her dead end train of thought.

“If we look at the times between disappearances and finding the bodies…” She trailed off and looked helplessly at Stiles.

“I don’t know.” He finished and looked sadly at Jules. “But guys there’s gotta be at twenty other doctors in that hospital at least, you know? Any one of them could be next.”

“Not to mention other hospitals in the area, nurses, techs, vets and private practices.” Jules added, glancing at Scott. She knew his mother was a nurse and wondered if in the eyes of the Darach that counted for anything.

“Thank you Juliet. Very helpful.” Stiles said in a bitter voice.

“What? You need to look at the whole board here. There’s a lot of crap on it.” She said in an honest voice. Stiles shot her a look that seemed apologetic. Jules turned back around to face the front of the room while Scott’s phone began to buzz. Jules twirled her pen while he took the call, disinterested in whatever it was. But then there was a tap on her shoulder and she turned back around to see that this time it was Scott, looking distressed.

“It’s Deaton. He’s the next one.”

* * *

 

Jules hated that she had to stay at school. She had been ready to get up and go after them but then Stiles had said. “Your parents.” And he had been right. If she began missing an abnormal amount of class they’d be contacted. Jules couldn’t believe how frustrating this was. People were getting hurt and the reason she couldn’t help was her overbearing family members. By the end of her morning she stormed to her locker and yanked it open, tossing what she no longer needed instead. She reached to grab a textbook when she noticed there were two things sat on top of it. A bottle filled with a clear liquid and a needle. She moved with her back to her locker to make sure no one would see, but it was ridiculous to think anyone was looking.

_What the DA knows but my doctors don’t. What my parents might just lose their minds over._

The sour taste of bile rose up in the back of her throat and Jules fought to stay calm.

_I can’t freak out in the school hallway._

Her hands trembled as she snatched the objects and shoved them into her bag. A note fluttered to the ground from under the bottle.

**_Go to the police and everyone will know._ **

Typed out in times new roman. Jules wanted the planet to swallow her whole. It didn't matter what exactly everyone would know. Anything was bad. She was a prisoner at school while someone her friend cared about was being ritually sacrificed and some asshole had decided to taunt her with her drug addiction. A hollow feeling settled in her chest. This wasn’t a picture any fool could find on the internet, or a phone number they could get from a teacher or classmate. This was personal. Hinted at on medical records and written in her statement. This wasn’t just someone messing with her. This was someone who knew exactly what they were doing. This was someone who saw her stress and pain and handed her what used to be a way out. This was someone who would get something from watching her fall apart.

Jules slammed her locker shut and left the school as quickly as she could without drawing attention. Once out she raced for the woods. She didn’t stop until she couldn’t hear the sounds of the school or the nearby roads. Jules fell to her knees at the base of a grove of old trees. She dug the bottle, note and needle out of her bag and let the fall to the ground. Her blood boiled and her stomach churned. Jules stood up and smashed her foot down on the needle, shattering it. She then got back down on her knees and began to rip and grind up the piece of paper. Hot tears pooled in her eyes and trickled down her cheeks as she helplessly pounded her fists into the ground. She felt the pain of breaking nails and scraped knuckles but she didn’t care. The bottle lay untouched at her side. She screamed as she did it. There were no words, just raw pain. This was the one thing she knew could still touch her. The one thing that was absolutely, one hundred percent her fault, the only way she had learned to cope. The one thing that would never go away. She pushed herself away and against a tree, breathing heavily. Her throat was raw and her hands killed with pain. She picked up the bottle.

_Dilaudid. Hydromorphone._

It was a prescribed pain killer, a potent one. Addictive, easy to overdose and had some horrible withdrawal symptoms. Ones Jules was all too familiar with. She remembered the last time she used it. The same day the FBI had burst into the place she called home and claimed to be her savior. Jules did not remember it well. 

Jules picked up the small glass bottle in her trembling and agonizing hands. She unscrewed the cap and looked down through her lashes at the contents.

_I could take this orally. But I have no way of knowing the dose._

Her mouth was dry and her head ached. She remembered the feeling of feeling nothing at all.

_Stalkers, trials, werewolves, darachs, parents… don’t I deserve a break?_

All the literature described the feeling as euphoria. Jules didn’t think of it that way.

_Who cares if I miss half a day of school? It’s been over six months. That’s a sufficient detox period, isn’t it? You can’t become addicted after one dose._

Jules could still feel the way her stomach hurt and the sleepless nights and how it was all she thought about. She knew what addiction was. But it had taken her far too long to admit to herself that she had one. She remembered lying next to Sara and hoping that what they were doing would kill them. That they would die hand in hand so that they wouldn’t be alone.

_Yes, you moron. You can develop an addiction after one dose. Stop being such an idiot and pour it out. Go back to class. This is what the creep wants anyway._

Jules stayed frozen with her eyes on the bottle. If urging herself wasn’t enough, what was?

“I can do this. Just dump it out.” She whispered in a shaky breath.

_What would people think if they knew? I can hear mom now. “Was it the drugs? Was it the drugs that made you stay?”_

Jules clenched her jaw. She couldn’t let herself think that way. She questioned if that was true without everyone else doing it to. She wouldn’t give people the satisfaction of pigeonholing her as a junkie and a whore.

_I didn’t stay. I didn’t have a choice. I stayed alive. That should be enough._

With shaking hands Jules let the bottle slip out her hands and roll away,its contents spilling into the dirt. She was disgusted. She did what she was supposed to. There was a part of her that wished she hadn’t. She leaned back against the rough bark of the tree and shut her eyes.

_Of all the girls in New York City why did they have to take me? What did I do?_

There was a reason Jules had given up on her faith. She didn’t want to believe in something that had let this happen to her. She didn’t want to believe that there was something else in control. Especially when she wanted to pretend she had some.

* * *

 

Jules wasn’t sure how much time had passed until she was trudging back to school. But as soon as she made it back the fire alarm went off. She began walking to the parking lot in a haze but her phone buzzed. It was Lydia.

**_Not a fire. Boy's locker rooms. Now!_ **

Jules took off running through the sea of students. Leaving her pain behind in the woods. No one paid much attention. High school students where always doing stupid things.

_Like running into what could be a burning building._

Jules threw the door of the office open and walked in on Cora with her hand tight around Lydia’s wrist. Everything that had happened in the last twelve hours culminated in a bitter rage towards Cora Hale.

“Werewolf or not I could take you.” Jules said darkly. She knew she probably couldn’t, but she would try. She looked Cora up and down. “Let go of her.”

“Did you know that your friend was screwing a member of the alpha pack?” Cora asked incredulously.

Lydia looked Jules over, staring at her mud soaked jeans and bleeding, dirty hands. “What happened to you?” She glared back at Cora. "Let me go."

Jules ignored Lydia’s question and took another step closer to the Hale, “Let go of her.”

Cora didn’t. Jules stepped between them.

“They said let go.” Stiles’s voice came from behind them. Jules’s head whipped around, she hadn’t heard him come in. Cora roughly let go of Lydia and pushed her back. Jules pushed Cora by her collar bone back into the wall.

“Don’t touch my friends.” She growled.

“Jules.” Lydia spoke. “What the hell?”

Jules stepped away from Cora and shrugged, trying to be nonchalant. “What?”

Stiles walked up to them and turned to Lydia. “Deaton’s missing. We need your help.”

Cora scoffed. “Seriously? She is sleeping with the guy who tried to kill my brother.”

Jules rolled her eyes. “Welcome to the twenty first century Cora, people can do what they want with their genitalia.” She glared at Lydia. “Even if it is morally bankrupt and unbecoming of the person in question.” She muttered.

Lydia glowered at her friend and then looked back to Stiles. “I am not going to be looking at tarot cards.”

Stiles fidgeted his fingers. “Actually I was thinking of something different.”

* * *

 

“A Ouija board?” Lydia was incredulous.

“Also called a spirit board and it’s worth a shot.” Stiles rebutted.

“It really isn’t” “A shot in the dark.” Lydia and Jules said simultaneously.

Jules picked up the lip of the box. “A spooky game for the whole family.” She read out loud. “At least it’s not a crystal ball.”

Stiles shot her a displeased look and snatched the lid from her, she smirked.

“Could you just try it please? Okay?” He insisted. “Let’s not forget who this is for.” He set up the board. “Scott’s boss. The guy who has saved our collective asses on more than one occasion.”

“Not my ass. I don’t mess with ghosts.” Jules stated.

Stiles raised his eyebrows. “Are you kidding me? You’ve been jumping out of windows and threatening to fight werewolves but you don’t mess with ghosts?” He asked with extra emphasis on the word "ghosts".

Jules shook her head. “You three should work just fine. Especially since this won’t work. At all, for anyone, ever.” She quipped.

Stiles pointed to her. “I don’t need your attitude right now.”

Jules shot him a sardonic smile. Lydia rolled her eyes at her friend.

“So wait should we all do this?” Cora asked, re-focusing the two of them. She glanced at Jules. “Except for you.” She snapped.

“Yeah.” Stiles looked at Lydia. “Yeah.”

Jules watched and tried to suppress laughter as the three of them placed their hands on the planchette.

“You guys ready?” Stiles asked them.

Jules raised a battered looking hand “Actually-”

Stiles shushed her, cutting her off.

_Asshole._

“Where’s Doctor Deaton.” Stiles asked the board game.

“Aren’t you supposed to open with something like ‘spirits I summon thee’ or any of that BS?” She whispered to him. “You can’t just talk to a piece of wood.”

Stiles shushed her again as they all looked to a bored looking Lydia.

“What?” She asked them.

“Aren’t you gonna answer it?” Stiles asked her.

“Oh, I don’t know the answer.” Lydia said. “I thought we were asking some sort of spirit.”

Jules snorted. “The only spirits in this room is my spirit of adventure and the little voice in my head telling me this is stupid.”

Cora ignored Jules. “Well do you know any spirits?” She asked Lydia.

Jules blanched and pulled out her phone.

“Is she for real?” Lydia asked Stiles while pointing her thumb at Cora.

Jules began playing the X-Files theme out loud. Stiles jumped.

“I am really not appreciating anything you are doing right now.” He said clearly and grabbed her phone from her hands. She winced. He frowned and glanced down at her battered hands.

“What did you do?” He set her phone down and looked her over.

Lydia huffed. “I would also like to know.”

“I don’t care.” Cora added.

“Well I was not doing a member of the alpha pack, we can rest assured.” She deadpanned. Lydia scowled.

“Jules. You like you got in a fight with the forest and lost.” Lydia said and leaned in closer to her friend. 

“And you’ve been crying. We can all tell.” Cora pointed out.

Jules hadn’t even thought about that, so she did what she did best and deflected. “Guys a man’s life is on the line!" She shouted "Focus! Get yours heads in the game!” She barked, half joking with the last bit. Jules turned to Stiles.

“Any other fantastic ideas?”

* * *

 

Stiles dangled a set of keys in front of them.

“Okay, these are Deaton’s keys for the clinic.” He said to Lydia. “Close your eyes and I’m gonna put ‘em in your hand and then we’re just gonna try and see if you can feel out for his location.” Stiles said.

“It’s called psychometry and it doesn’t work.” Jules added, much to Stiles’s annoyance.

“I’m not a psychic.” Lydia pointed out.

“You’re something! Okay?” He shouted.

 Jules jumped, she wasn’t expecting that. Stiles didn’t notice.

“Just Lydia, put out your hand and…” He trailed off as she raised a recently washed hand.

“Another, better idea.” Jules interrupted. “Get werewolf girl to smell them.” She offered.

“I can’t get a scent off some keys.” Cora said harshly.

Jules scowled, “Why are you here?”

“Probably because unlike you I-” Cora started.

“You two” Stiles pointed at them. “stop it.” He dropped the keys into Lydia’s hands.

“Mm.” She said. Jules leaned forward.

_This can’t actually work can it?_

“What?” Stiles asked her.

“They’re cold.” Lydia stated.

Jules put her head in her hands and sighed.

_Nope, it can’t actually work._

“Lydia just concentrate, please? Trying to save lives here, for the love of god.” Stiles urged, clearly growing more and more irritated with the process. Jules suppressed the desire to snap at him. He was right.

Lydia shut her eyes and moved the keys around in her hand. The three teenagers watched her with laser focus, waiting for something, anything that could help them. Lydia furrowed her brow.

“What is it? What do you see?” Stiles asked softly.

Lydia opened her eyes. “Nothing.” She said flatly.

Jules huffed and put her head down on the desk. Exhausted by a day that had barely started.

_I could be as good as on another planet right now but no… I thought that was a terrible idea._

She clenched her one of her bruised fists. She could feel someone’s eyes on her. She raised her head.

“What? I’m reveling in defeat.” She deadpanned.

Stiles began pacing and Cora took a seat away from them, she glared at Stiles.

“Jules what’s wrong?” Lydia asked quietly.

“A man’s life is at stake and we can’t do anything about it? We have a mutual issue right now.” She stated.

Lydia pursed her lips. “I know that isn’t all that’s bothering you, why are covered in dirt? Did something happen.”

Jules groaned and both Stiles and Cora turned to look at her. She pressed her hands into her temples. “Lydia can you just leave it alone?” She asked, exasperated.

Lydia shrugged and leaned away from Jules, her posture oozing annoyance. “Fine.” She said shortly.

Jules lay her head back down onto the table.

_It’s gonna be a long night._

 


	10. Currents II

** Chapter Ten – Currents II **

* * *

 

Stiles watched Jules’s eyes follow him as he laid a piece of paper out for Lydia. The night before she was a ball of energy, she wasn’t that way now. He wanted so badly to ask what had happened to her while he was gone with Scott. But if she wasn’t telling Lydia, he knew she wouldn’t be telling him.

“Automatic writing?” Lydia asked him, openly done with the 'psychic prediction' affair.

Jules watched intently as Lydia began to sketch something. She tapped her leg on the floor. After another stoke of Lydia’s pen Jules stood up.

“I can’t just sit here. Keep doodling. I’m going to do something else.” She announced and headed for the door.

“What are you doing?” Stiles asked her as she left. Jules didn’t respond. “Lydia what? What the hell is that?” Jules turned around.

“A tree.” Lydia answered.

Jules fidgeted her hands. “And how exactly is that supposed to help save Deaton?” Her voice teetered on being a shout. Lydia shot her an incredulous look. Stiles frowned; it wasn’t like her to talk like that to Lydia.

“Lydia you’re supposed to be writing words, like in sentences, something like a location, something that would tell us where he is!” Stiles exclaimed.

“Well maybe you should have said that.” Lydia replied. Stiles narrowed his eyes.

“It was implied!” Jules snapped and walked back over to the desk.

“Isn’t she supposed to be some kind of genius?” Cora asked Stiles.

“Genius? Yes.” Lydia said hotly. “Psychic, no.”

“Then what are we doing here? We need to be out looking!” Jules shouted, she sounded desperate.

Stiles raised his eyebrows. “Where? Where do you think we should be looking?” Stiles asked her angrily, gesturing around the room. Jules took a step back from him. He froze.

“I don’t know?” She shouted, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Has anyone made a map of where the kidnappings have happened and where the bodies were found? That could actually help us!” She yelled at him. “There has to be a pattern! This thing has motives! It’s killing for a reason, this isn’t random!” She took a calming breath “There is a method to what it’s doing and we figure out what it is-”. She used her hands as she spoke, making concise gestures with her words. He knew she was clinging desperately to the notion that she cold apply what she knew about humanity to their current circumstance, he wasn't so sure they could.

“We don’t have time!” He interrupted her. He could feel Lydia and Cora’s eyes on them both but Stiles kept his eyes locked on Jules. She was furious. Something had her on edge and it wasn’t Deaton, or Cora or him. Something else was making her this upset. Jules’s hands were clenched into shaking fists and he wondered for a moment if she was thinking about punching him. Actually, seriously, pain inflicting, punching him. 

“We really should be talking to Danny.” Lydia cut through the tension.

Jules whipped around. “What?”

“Why Danny?” Stiles asked urgently.

“Because.” They turned as Scott appeared in the doorway, clutching his shoulder. “Last night he was a target. But it wasn’t a sacrifice.”

* * *

 

“But isn’t Danny still in the hospital?” Cora asked as they exited the classroom.

“Yeah, that’s where we’re going right now.” Stiles said. Jules walked a pace behind them.

_Should I go? Because I’m pretty sure all I have done today is royally piss of everyone._

“I’ll meet you there.” Scott said, he sounded distracted.

“Why?” Stiles questioned.

Scott held his phone out to Stiles. Jules couldn’t see what it was but she guessed it was Allison with whatever piece of the puzzle she’d spent the day hunting down.

Jules slowed down and watched as the four of them went their separate ways. Stiles stopped and turned around. “You can’t miss classes that aren’t happening.”

Jules stared blankly at him.

_Is he asking me to come?_

“Unless you think you should go home.” He began walking back to her. “You’re right about the map.” He sounded almost reluctant. Juels figured it might not be like him to admit someone else as right about something.

“I should have done it myself.” Jules said quietly, she avoided his eyes. “I shouldn’t have jumped down your throat.” She could feel his agitation radiating off of him.

_I shouldn’t have raised my voice, I shouldn’t have spoken to any of you guys the way I did._

“Oh my god, whatever.” He said lightheartedly. “But we’ve gotta go.”

Her head snapped up.

_Doesn’t he care that I was a bitch to him?_

“Right. Yeah.” She stared up at him as they began to walk, almost job out of the school.

_Didn’t I make you mad?_

* * *

 

Jules stood poised outside of Danny’s room, her eyes peeled for anyone who might notice she wasn’t supposed to be there. She nervously tapped her foot and leaned back against the door. The sun set earlier and earlier every day. And it seemed probable that this thing, the Darach, did most of its murdering at night. Jules didn’t know Deaton, and she didn’t know Scott very well yet. But she didn’t want to see someone close to him die. Jules saw how much it pained her friends that strangers were getting hurt.

_God forbid they lose one of their own._

She watched people race back and forth in the hospital and realized nobody cared what she was doing. They had patients and loved ones and jobs to do. Completely oblivious to the horror that waited for them around every corner. And Jules didn’t just mean the supernatural. When she thought of what terrified her the most it wasn’t whatever monsters might be out there. It was people. The Darach was smart but simple. It was a killer and it needed to be stopped, all they were missing was how. People presented a different challenge. They don’t show their true colors until it might be too late. Jules thought of Stiles. She thought she might know him a little, or at least want to. But could she be sure what he was really like.

_I mean it looks like he genuinely cares and he’d have to, to be running around doing this when he could be living a normal life. Of course when it started it as all about Scott. What happened to make him care so much about everyone else?_

Jules of course knew the answer. It was the inability to save a life that made her desperate to compensate. But she’d rather study someone else. Somewhere along the line it wasn’t just about helping his best friend. She wondered when it had happened.

_He’ll make a good cop._

She thought about her own future career prospects. She had never thought about it before. The future had never been important.

_Maybe I’d make a good cop to…_

The door opened and before Jules realized what was happening she stumbled backward and landed at Stiles’s feet. She looked up sheepishly.

“Hey.” She said awkwardly.

“That was terrifying!” He whisper-yelled.

Jules cocked her head and took the hand he offered to help her to his feet. The two of them skirted from the room. “If a young woman falling down terrifies you, that’s weird.” She looked at a package of papers in his hands. “What’s that?”

Stiles put his hand on her upper back and led her around the corner into an emptier hallway. “It’s a report Danny did about-”

“Telluric currents. I can read Stiles. How does it help us?” She pressed, leaning in close to him to read the title. She looked up at him, eyebrows raised.

“You wanted a map.” He shook the report. “We’ve got one.”

His phone rang, he handed her the report while he dug through his pockets. Jules flipped through it and saw a lot of words she didn’t understand. But at the back there was a map covered in squiggly lines. 

“Hey Scott.” Stiles said.

Jules looked back up at him as Stiles listened to Scott. He began walking towards the exit, his hand on her back again. She wondered why he felt the need to walk her everywhere.

_I can see where you’re going._

She wanted to say, but they had more pressing issues.

_Is this an attempt at chivalry? Or deeply ingrained misogyny you aren’t even aware of…_

They stepped outside. “Well we might not have to.” Stiles said to Scott. Jules wanted him to put the phone on speaker. He gestured for the report; she handed it to him and watched him fumble with it with one hand. “Danny was doing a project on something for Mr. Harris’s physics class, and I think it actually means something.”

Jules strained to hear what Scott was saying. She gave up and waited for Stiles to say something else to his best friend.

“Something on telluric currents.” He said to Scott. “Yeah.” He hung up.

Jules struggled to remember what telluric currents were.

_This planet has so much weird crap how am I supposed to remember what these stupid things-_

“Electric currents that run everywhere!” She shouted. Stiles jumped.

“What?” He asked. People turned to look at them.

“Telluric currents, they’re electric currents that run all over the planet and through the ocean.” She grabbed the report from Stiles and flipped through it, to the map. “These must be all the ones in Beacon Hills.” She didn’t know how to read maps; it wasn’t something she’d ever learned how to do. “If the Darach is using these we can find Deaton!” She said excitedly.

Stiles shot her a look that was somewhere between impressed and grateful then leaned over her shoulder to scan the map with her. “Scott said there are six places Argent has marked on a map. Places that the next bodies might be found.”

Jules’s stomach clenched. “Allison’s dad?” She turned around, bumping into his chest. “He doesn’t- he can’t have anything to do with this can he?” She looked up at him.

_How tall are you? Wait... that's completely irrelevant right now._

Stiles shrugged, he looked worried. “The others are gonna meet us at the animal clinic.”

Jules thought of her parents, that it was just early enough in the night that she could make a good excuse for being out. If she went with him she had no idea how long she might be getting home.

_Screw your parents. A man could die._

She set her jaw and grabbed Stiles’s arm, pulling him with her as she ran into the parking lot to his car.

* * *

 

At the clinic the group of them rifled through Danny’s report. Jules purposely ignored Cora. Jules couldn’t pinpoint why but the girl irked her.

“It’s a project on geomagnetic fields. They flow through the earth they can even be affected by lunar phases, all right?” Stiles explained.

“Like the tides.” Jules added absentmindedly, not taking her eyes off of the pages. “Look that this.” She flipped through.

“This is a note from Harris on Danny’s proposal.” Stiles said.

“I strongly advise you to choose another subject. The ideas here, while innovative and thoughtful, border on pseudo-science.” Lydia read.

“Like psychometry.” Jules said. Stiles shot her an amused look.

“Not suitable for class.” Lydia finished.

“Harris wasn’t just a sacrifice he knew something.” Scott said.

“Figures.” She muttered and looked up at Stiles. “The other thing.” She whispered.

“Allison’s dad wasn’t the only one with a map, all right.” he began unfolding it.

 Jules grabbed one end. “I really should have made a map.” She muttered. “That’s like the first step in discerning a pattern.” She rambled. She hated to say that she loved this. Crime was her passion. She read and watched everything she could find, fiction and documentaries.

“Danny had one to.” Stiles said as they placed it on the table.

“Danny marked all the telluric currents.” Jules explained.

“The weird thing about Beacon Hills.” Stiles continued. “Is that it actually is a Beacon. You wouldn’t believe how much energy flowing through the earth is around this town.”

“You also wouldn’t believe how creative the guy who named this place was.” Jules said, her phone buzzed. It was Charlotte. She stepped away and answered.

“HI mom can’t talk Lydia and I are in a movie.” She whispered. “Did I not tell you?” She said over her mother’s protests. “Sorry, bye.” She hung up and switched off her phone.

_I’m gonna pay for that one._

“Stiles look they match.” Scott said. Jules leaned back on the table.

“Yeah. I said that the Darach might be using these. I hate that. I would really prefer if magic and science stayed as far away from each other as possible. Although I guess I really should be questioning at this point how much of our science is supernatural and vice versa. Do any of you know if-”

“Jules you’re rambling.” Lydia said quietly.

Stiles’s eyes were flicking interestedly between her and the maps Scott was rearranging. He pulled out a pen.

“There’s three places right? Where they’re kidnapped.” He circled the clinic and then another spot on the map. “And then the place where their body was found.”

“It’s right on the telluric current.” Lydia said.

“So maybe where he was sacrificed is somewhere in between.” Scott said.

_He’s talking like Deaton is already gone._

“Let me see that.” Stiles took the pen from Scott.

Jules watched him carefully. Trying to figure out what he was thinking.

“You said there’s six more bodies to be found, Deaton’s one of them.” Stiles started

“How? If Deaton’s the last healer there still needs to be three philosophers and three guardians. That leaves six more places. So it could be using the same places twice or this map is incomplete.” Jules thought out loud.

Stiles frowned. “We’ll think about that after we save Deaton.” He said in a steady voice. “He’s got to be somewhere in between right?” He started.

“Stop.” Cora said in a soft voice. She reached down and grabbed Stiles’s hand and guided it across the map.

_Woah, when did you get touchy feely?_

“He’s in the vault.” She said. “He’s in the same vault.”

_You could have just told us, didn’t have to be all dramatic with the hand holding._

Jules frowned.

_What does it matter to me?_

They began to gather up the paper and leave the clinic.

“Guys hold on.” Lydia called after them, her eye son her phone.

“Lydia, we don’t have time.” Scott urged.

“It’s Boyd. The plan didn’t work. They cut the power.” Cora said somberly.

“Plan? What plan? What?” Jules asked no one in particular, her heart pounded. Whatever that was, wasn’t good.

“The plan to stop Kali from killing Derek.” Stiles told her.

_Kali. Bad alpha. Derek. Good alpha._

“That’s not good.” She stated the obvious.

“It’s just like he said.” Scott whispered.

Jules raised her eyebrows but said nothing. Assuming Scott didn’t mean to be heard. “Go. I can save Deaton myself.”

“What? Scott what about us?” Stiles asked him.

“Cora can’t get there fast enough without you. Go. We can save both of them.” He said and turned around the corner. Jules went after him, her heart pounded and adrenaline scorched her veins.

“Scott I’ll come with you. You shouldn’t go by yourself!” She called after him.

“Go! I’ll be fine, save Derek!” He yelled as he left.

Jules turned and ran after the others, Lydia stopped her and Stiles turned around as Cora headed for the jeep.

“Your parents.” Lydia said nervously.

“Jules I saw your face last night. We’ll be fine. Go home.” Stiles blurted out. Jules raced after Cora and barreled into the jeep.

“I can handle mother and father dearest!” She shouted as Stiles and Lydia climbed in after them. “This is a good reason to get a lecture.”

_Well, a little more than a lecture. More like verbal evisceration._

* * *

 

Jules had had worse car rides. But never with this many people all feeling the same crushing fear that it was too late. As soon as they got to the loft, a place Jules had never been before. They tore inside and into the electrical room.

“What do we do?” Stiles asked.

“We pull them.” Cora told them. “We pull all of them.”

Stiles pulled out his phone as Cora and Lydia grappled with the levers and in that moment Jules made a very poor decision. She turned and raced up towards the screams and growls. She heard her name called but she didn’t listen. They could handle a bunch of switches.

She ran up to the loft as Isaac grabbed a brunette.

_Is that Miss Blake?_

She ran to them as the werewolves in the water went down.

“Jules?” Isaac sounded surprised.

She didn’t answer and clutched the other side of the terrified woman, resisting the urge to scream and cower herself.

“Take him!” The woman who must have been Kali screamed.

Jules wanted to get up. She wanted to do something and Isaac must have been able to tell because he grabbed her arm and held her where she was. Jules didn’t think she would have been able to move anyway. One of Mrs. Blake’s hands was gripping Jules’s knee like a vice. The twins grabbed Derek and Jules watched horrified as they brought his clawed hands up. Jules had never seen a werewolf shifted the way Derek and the others were. It was petrifying. Every cell in her body screamed for her to run as far and as fast away as she could but she stayed where she was, half lying on the wet floor. The crying Miss Blake wedged between her and a horrified Isaac. Kali had lifted up Boyd. Someone was screaming, Jules was fairly certain it was her as Kali dropped Boyd onto Derek’s waiting claws. The arm Isaac was using to hold her where she was wrapped around her, pushing her head into Miss Blake’s shoulder. Jules thought she heard him tell her not to look. She didn’t have to. She knew what was happening.

“I’m giving you to the next full moon Derek.” Kali said in a somewhat casual tone. “Make the smart choice, join the pack. Or next time I’m killing all of you.”

Jules’s chest heaved at the same pace as her teacher’s. Isaac’s arm was tight around her. The entire scene reminded Jules of something she’d witnessed about two years before hand. Jules had never been sure what it was, a gang initiation likely. She pushed the memories from her head. She didn’t need them there now. She felt Isaac and Miss Blake sit up she pushed herself to the side, closer to Isaac, whom she liked far more then Miss Blake. Her eyes fell on Boyd and Derek, Derek was futilely pushing into Boyd’s wounds. Jules’s eyes stung with tears but she couldn’t look away. A hand was pulling her back, it was Isaac again. She let him; she curled away from what was in front of her, unable to bear to look at it anymore. She heard footsteps running towards them and past her. She looked back to see Lydia in the doorway and Stiles and Cora in the water with Derek. Cora was cradling Boyd and Stiles stood behind Derek, his hand on his shoulder. 

_Is this what he does? Offers his hand to people and hopes it will help them? Does it work?_

 Jules tore her eyes away and leapt to her feet, ripping herself away from Isaac. She sprinted past Lydia and down and out of the dingy building.

* * *

 

She collapsed in the parking lot. Still not completely grasping what had just happened. She let out a painful sob.

_I just witnessed a murder and no one is going to do anything about it._

And for the second time that day Jules was pounding her fists on the ground out of shear frustration.

_There’s only going to be some sadistic supernatural parking lot fist fight and a teenage boy is dead!_

Her thoughts kept coming and she let out a scream. The panic she had held off in the woods hit her like a baseball bat to the stomach. She curled into herself and onto the hard ground. Her entire body shaking. Jules knew she was hyperventilating, that she should do something about it. But all she could think was that she shouldn’t have gotten rid of that bottle and she hated herself for it. She let out another heartbroken cry before the world went dark.

* * *

 

Jules woke up in the back of the jeep staring up at Lydia.             

“Oh thank god.” Lydia huffed. “Stiles she’s fine.” Lydia said.

“I’m still going to the hospital.” He stated. There was no way he was just letting her go home. Not after finding her unconscious on the ground. That had been terrifying.

Jules sat up. Lydia pushed her back down. “Please don’t, I’ve definitely been worse.”

“You know saying stuff like that really isn’t reassuring.” Stiles said quickly. “I mean you go running to do what? Fight werewolves? And then the next time I see you you’re passed out in a parking lot-”

“Stiles we saw her with Isaac and Jules isn’t stupid enough to actually fight werewolves.” Lydia rebutted. Stiles ignored the part about Isaac. He had seen.

_Since when are they close? Have they even talked since the motel?_

“First of all,” Jules’s voice was slurred. “do not underestimate who and what I will try to fight, and secondly I did not ‘pass out’ I panicked and my body forced me to take a nap.” She said in a matter-of-fact tone.

Stiles tried not to smile.

Lydia had pulled Jules’s hair out of its braid and was running her fingers through it. “Jules are you okay?”

“It’s been a very stressful evening, thank you for asking.” She said in a proper voice.

Neither Lydia nor Stiles were amused. “Jules your hands are bleeding again.” He pointed out.

_Again. Because you did something to them before._

“I’ll just pull my sleeves over them. My parents won’t notice.” She assured.

“That is not what I was getting at.” Stiles muttered he glanced back at her in the rear-view mirror.

“Jules what happened today?” Lydia whispered to Jules. Stiles pretended not to be listening.

_Did she have a run in with someone and not tell us? The twins? Or something else? Is that why she was so upset earlier?_

“Is there something else we need to talk about? Something you haven’t told me?” Lydia asked softly. Stiles looked back at them. He briefly studied Jules’s face before looking back to the road. She was the picture of helpless. Her eyes wide and staring up at Lydia, her lips were parted with words she wouldn't say. Stiles knew there had to be a lot she hadn’t told Lydia. A lot she hadn’t told anyone.

_Helpless._

It wasn’t a word he would have normally attributed to her, not until that moment. Not until she was lying in the back seat of his car staring terrified at Lydia with a loss for words. Not until she was crumpled in a parking lot under the weight of the world. When Stiles had decided to tell her about this world. His world, he had given little consideration to what she might have already been dealing with. His eyes flicked back to her again. She was tracing patterns on the bruises and scrapes that littered her hands. Sometimes his life felt like to much for him, he didn’t want to know what Jules’s life felt like for her.

 


	11. Visionary

**Author Note: This chapter is going to be pretty long but I didn’t think it was worth splitting into two parts so…**

**Warning: Mention of suicide.**

** Chapter Eleven – Visionary **

* * *

 

Jules was sprawled on Erin’s familiar couch, the Saturday after the events at the loft. It was a calm day.

_Calm both after and before the storm._

The thought was bitter but true. When she had arrived home after the loft with her hands shoved into her pockets Lydia had gone in with her to solidify their story. The two had pulled it off by the skin of their teeth and Jules was in the clear. After her session, Stiles was picking her up and she was going back to the loft. It was the last place she wanted to go but Stiles wanted to talk to Cora and Peter. Jules was reluctant but Derek was in the wind. She could see why. But he had wanted company and Lydia and Allison and Scott were all doing something else. Her eyes fell on Erin; they’d already been talking about nothing for nearly three quarters of an hour.

_Come on. Spit out whatever it is we’re building to. Or actually…_

“My mother thinks I’m a slut. Thoughts?” She blurted out, cutting of Erin in mid of her motivational sentence about acceptance or something.

“Elaborate.” She said carefully.

_Seems unorthodox, you know I’m traumatized by almost everything that has ever happened to me right?_

“I got home from that track meet and she asked me why I went and what I did in the hotel and then I heard her screaming at my father asking why it took me so long to come home.” Jules said it like it was rehearsed. It sort of was, she had gone over the short but gut-wrenching conversation more times than she could remember since it had happened. She’d even called Gail. Gail had done the big sisterly thing and agreed with everything Jules had to say and then told Jules their mother could go to do something psychically impossible. It was comforting to hear someone else agree with her.

“It’s common for people to blame the victim. Even family. How did that make you feel?” Erin asked in a soft voice.

“Just dandy.” Jules deadpanned and stared at the ceiling. “But I know she’ll get over it. Unfortunately I cannot take responsibility for my own kidnapped and subsequent forced prostitution. If I could there would be no trial to testify at.” Her voice was strained and bitter by the end, her hand clenched and unclenched as she tried to keep herself together.

“How are you feeling about the incoming trial? About your testimony?” Erin asked her.

Jules’s breath caught in her throat. “What do you mean?”

“Testifying in front of your abusers is going to be hard, but I know you’re strong. But we’ve talked about this before I can ask your family not to be in the courtroom if you feel that would make it easier.” Erin told her.

Jules shuddered. She didn’t want them there. She didn’t want to tell them anything, let alone the parts she kept quiet. “I might take you up on that.” Jules said in a small voice.

“And this of course includes them being absent during my testimony.” Erin added as an afterthought.

Jules jolted upright. “Your what?” She asked flatly.

Erin frowned. “The DA didn’t inform you? I’m offering expert testimony. This means I’ve been given the questions I’ll be answering. Some of them I wasn’t prepared for.” She said uneasily. “I do have answers for them, but ones I’ve observed. Nothing you’ve told me.”

Jules’s heart sank. “What do you mean?” Her voice was low.

“I can’t tell you. You know that.” Erin said in a heavy voice. “What I can do is ask if there is something you wish to share. Something important.” She pressed.

Jules leaned back into the couch.

_God damn it’s been one hell of a week._

“I’m clean.” She assured, relying on Erin and her thinking about the same issue.

_Like that means anything considering I’m jonesing but I’ll just keep that to myself. Like an idiot._

“That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t talk about it.” Erin said, Jules noticed a hint of eagerness in her voice. Like her drug problem was an exciting topic of conversation.

“I think the rule is we don’t talk about anything I’m uncomfortable talking about.” Jules said uneasily.

Erin leaned forward in her chair. “There are things I can do to help you Jules, things we can keep to ourselves, nobody needs to know.”

Jules stood up. “We are done talking about it.” She said in a dangerously calm voice.

Erin was unperturbed. “Can I ask you why?”

_First of all I shouldn’t have to give you a reason and secondly it made me compliant. It made me weak. It gave them power. It gives the defense counsel leverage and I don’t want to open this door and you’re not supposed to push._

Jules wanted to scream her thoughts in the face of her psychiatrist but she stayed quiet instead. After another moment of tense silence Jules’s eyes flicked over to the clock above the door.

“Our session is over.” Jules stated and stood up. Slinging her bag over her shoulder as she stalked out of the home. Erin’s eyes tracked her as she left. Then she scrawled something into her notes and readied herself for her next patient.

* * *

 

Stiles wasn’t familiar with the address he was picking up Jules at. It was outside of town and down one lane roads in the woods. He slowed down when he saw her, pacing at the top of a gravel driveway. He leaned over and opened the door. His eyes fell on a sign behind her.

**_Erin Giles. M.D, PhD._ **

_A psychiatrist._

Jules silently got into the car and shut the door with a loud bang. Stiles wanted to ask but he was getting better at identifying her emotions and what to do about them. He looked her over. Her eyes were narrowed and she looked deep in thought as she clenched and unclenched her hands. That was rage and he wasn’t going to poke at it.

“Do you know if Allison and Scott have made it to Gerard’s yet?” Her voice was strained; he noticed that her eyes were shining a bit more than they should be. Stiles didn’t know if he should say something. Ask her if she was okay.

“Yeah, I think they’re on their way.” He answered quietly, his eyes flicking to between Jules and the road. She nodded stiffly and fell back into silence. Her hands tremored.

“You know you don’t have to come. It might actually be boring.” He said in a lighthearted voice. She shoved her hands in her pockets. Stiles cringed inwardly.

_Damn. I need to get better at this._

“You shouldn’t go alone. I’ve heard bad things about Peter. From you.” She pointed out.

“Cora will be there.” He assured. “I’ll be fine.”

Jules didn’t look particularly impressed with idea of Cora being the only thing standing between him and a sociopathic werewolf.

“Regardless, it’ll be better if we have two sets of ears. You have more werewolf experience I have more experience with…” She trailed off and paused and thought on her word choice. “Unsavory people.” She said in a sour voice. Stiles didn’t know how to respond but he knew he had to say something. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, trying to find a topic of conversation that wasn’t horrible in nature.

“You know like a million years ago everyone thought science was witchcraft.” He commented.

“They also though the earth was flat.” She said in a monotonous voice. Her eyes darted to him and she turned towards him, her hands ringing. “What I’ve actually been wondering is how much of human behavior affects people who aren’t actually human. Does Scott react differently to situations based on experience or instinct? I know that I’m not supposed to apply human logic to a supernatural serial killer but can I? How much of a divide is there between human behavior and supernatural creatures? I mean does it vary? How cool would it be to study that if you weren’t branded a lunatic? Have you thought about it?” Her words spilled out of her mouth excitedly. Her mood switched on a dime. Stiles gaped at her for a moment.

“No. I haven’t thought about.” He admitted, slightly dumbfounded. “But now I’m going to.” He looked back at her. She was ready to start talking again. He wondered how often she used to ramble. If it was an old habit she was falling back into. He smiled to himself and hoped it was. He didn’t want to think about what she might have lost, but it was good to know she might be getting things back.

“And also I don’t believe that the government doesn’t know. That’s preposterous.” She stated.

Stiles snorted. She flashed a grin.

“Gonna start playing the X-files theme again?” He deadpanned.

She looked accusingly at him. “That was top notch comedy and you know it.”

He rolled his eyes. “Sure. Hilarious.”

He watched from the corner of his eye as she leaned back into the seat and smiled to herself. He spotted curls of her hair straying from her braids and he wondered if she noticed. It didn’t seem like she would. Her eyes were on the road ahead of them and her hands playing with a thread on her sweater. She had others things on her mind.

* * *

 

Jules was reluctant to go back into the loft. She didn’t want to tell Stiles and she didn’t want to show him but she wanted him to know that.

_Well what kind of paradox is that then?_

She quietly walked behind him with small steps up to where Derek and Cora lived. She stopped at the final landing. Stiles turned around and gave her a small smile. He held out his hand. She remembered her thought from the night of Boyd's death.

_“Is this what he does? Offers his hand to people and hopes it will help them? Does it work?”_

She took his hand and stayed a pace behind him as they opened the door.

_It works._

Boyd’s body was gone. But that didn’t mean she didn’t see him lying there in the water that had now drained away. Cora and a man who must have been Peter were standing inside. They both turned around. Cora had little interest in either of them. Peter on the other hand was looking intently at Jules.

“Who’s this?” He asked. Jules hated his voice. Her hand tightened around Stiles’s.

“Jules.” She said in a flat voice, Peter was still looking at her. Half of her wanted to smack him and the other half wanted to leave.

_I could make up an excuse. Like a medical emergency. Or I could just say feminine issues and flee._

“Peter.” Stiles’s voice cut through the uncomfortable silence. “I’m pretty sure we’re here for a reason. And it isn’t so that you can creep out my friend.”

_I need to step up my snark game._

Peter’s eyes slid away from Jules and then to his niece. “Well, we should start at the beginning.”

* * *

 

“They were there for two days.” Cora said, telling them about a time when Derek and Peter were hunted. “Waiting, hiding. That’s what we’re taught to do when the hunters find us. Hide and heal.”

It had begun to poor rain outside.

_They’re hunting people like animals. It’s sick._

“Okay, so is two days standard, then or are we thinking Derek’s on, like, some extended getaway?” Stiles asked her.

“Why do you care?” Cora asked him.

“Why do I care? Let’s see.” He stared at Cora. “Because over the last few weeks my best friends tried to kill himself. His boss nearly got ritually sacrificed. A girl I’ve known since I was three was ritually sacrificed. Boyd was killed by alphas. I… do you want me to keep going? Am I missing anything?” His voice rose as he went on and he looked to Jules.

“Yeah actually.” Jules shot a glare at Cora. “Nine innocent people who didn’t have anything to do with this are dead. Six more are going to die. Not to mention all the other people who have died or gotten hurt as a result of this, people are terrified. And Kali and the twins are still out for blood!” She shouted; images of Boyd being murdered in front of her flooded her mind.

“We can go on for like an hour!” Stiles iterated.

“You think Derek can do anything about that?” Cora snapped.

“Well since he’s the one everyone seems to be after, it’s more like he should do something about it, yeah.” Stiles began pacing.

“Instead of leaving it to teenagers to die and telling them it’s okay.” Jules said harshly. “Although, it isn’t his fault that a psychopath has pegged him as his next protégé or whatever it is Deucalion does.” She added as a quiet afterthought.

“I don’t know.” Cora said thoughtfully. “There’s something different about him now. He wasn’t like this when we knew him.”

“What was he like? Stiles asked in a quiet voice.

Jules turned to the sound of footsteps that signaled Peter’s reappearance. “A lot like Scott, actually.” He said. “A lot like most teenagers, unbearably romantic, profoundly narcissistic. Tolerable really only to other teenagers.” Peter explained.

Jules kept her eyes trained away from him. “It’s true that most teenagers exhibit a surplus of narcissistic and sociopathic qualities. Although I don’t see how that’s anything like Scott.” Jules mused.

Stiles nodded in agreeance. “So what happened to him? What changed him?” he asked.

“The death of almost his whole family?” Jules offered.

“Good guess.” Peter said. “But it was the same thing that changes a lot of young men.” His eyes flicked to Stiles and then to Jules. “A girl.”

Her heart pounded, “So the curse of young love strikes again?” She scoffed, flickign ehr eyes around the room.

“Yeah, so you’re telling me some girl broke his little heart? That’s why Derek is the way he is?” Stiles was incredulous. Jules agreed. It seemed like an over dramatic statement to say it was a teenage romance gone wrong that created Derek the way Stiles had described him. Dark, broody, very angry and very broken.

“So you remember Derek before he was an alpha, had blue eyes?” He asked Stiles and Cora. “Do you know why some wolves have blue eyes?”

“I feel like I’m about to find out why.” Jules muttered from her seat on the sofa.

“I always thought it was like a genetic thing.” Stiles admitted.

“If you want to know what changed Derek.” Peter told them. “You need to know what changed the color of his eyes.”

Jules pulled her feet up into her chest; getting the feeling she was not going to like this story.

* * *

 

Jules listened intently from the other side of the couch, as far away from Peter as she could get without getting up. So far it was just two kids meeting and flirting. Nothing she hadn’t read or seen on TV a million times before, but Stiles, as always. Had questions.

“So if Derek was a sophomore back then how old was he? How old were you? How old are you now?”

Jules raised an eyebrow. “Like fifteen. He was a sophomore.” She stated. “Or am I wrong? As for him…” She glanced at Peter’s feet and shrugged.

“Not as young as we could have been but not as old as you might think.” Peter answered cryptically.

Jules scoffed. “I’m sorry what? Can I have that line?” She looked at Stiles.

“That was frustratingly vague.” Stiles said to Peter, he turned to Cora. “How old are you?”

“I’m seventeen.” Cora answered flatly.

“See that’s an answer.” Stiles said to Peter. “That’s how we answer people.”

“Well seventeen in how you’d measure in years.” Cora added. Probably just to irritate Stiles.

Jules narrowed her eyes. “Elaborate? Is this like some full moon stuff?”

Stiles shook his head. “We’re just gonna drop it. What happened to Derek and the cello girl?” he asked disinterestedly.

“What do you think happened?” Peter asked sarcastically.

“Nothing good considering you’re telling this story.” Jules pointed out. Peter rolled his eyes and ignored her.

“They’re teenagers. One minute its ‘I hate you, don’t talk to me’ the next its frantic groping in any dark corner they could manage to find themselves alone in for five minutes.”

“Romantic.” Jules said sourly.

_Is that really how it works? Stiles talked about Scott and Allison like they were star crossed but they didn’t sound like that._

Jules tried for a moment to picture herself pulling someone into some closet or empty hallway after some frenemy type relationship. She couldn’t do it. If she was pulling anyone into a dark corner. It would be someone she cared about a lot, someone she maybe loved. Or could love. She continued to ponder while she half listened to Peter.

_What are the odds someone wants to be with me anyway? Especially when so many other people…_

She shuddered and cringed. She didn’t want to complete that thought.

_Whoever I’m pulling into abandoned distilleries is gonna know. And they are gonna love me anyway._

* * *

 

Stiles hung onto every word Peter said, but it was impossible for his thoughts not to stray. He found himself thinking about Scott and Allison. Scott had to have known they wouldn’t end well, a werewolf and a werewolf hunter’s daughter. But Scott had loved her anyway.

_Well that’s what it is. Dealing with mounds of crap and loving someone anyway._

He loved Lydia liked that. He would have fought Jackson in any form if it meant protecting her. He would have done anything. He still would. But he wasn’t sure if it was the type of love Peter was talking about. He thought about Lydia differently now. Whether it was time apart over the summer or growing up a little that let him move on. His eyes flicked to Cora. He wasn’t blind. She was attractive. But she was also kind of mean. He looked across the room at Jules. Stiles wasn’t sure if she was listening to Peter. She was staring, unseeing, out the window. Her thoughts either with the story or someplace else entirely. He wondered what she was thinking of when she looked like that. If her mind raced like his did, or saw connections and patterns where he did or if she saw the world the same way. He had a feeling she might. It was an odd feeling to have.

* * *

 

Peter traced the spiral he spoke of on the window. “Our mark for vendetta.” He said.

“Man you guys really take that to like a whole new level, don’t you?” Stiles commented.

Jules had since moved to sit beside him at the desk. She nudged him. “Wolves are incredibly territorial. I would think that this is just human emotion applied to an animal instinct…” She whispered to him, trailing off when Cora and Peter shot her identical looks of irritation. Stiles glanced at her.

“Smart.” He mouthed.

“It’s not just revenge.” Cora stated. “Losing a member of your pack isn’t like losing family.” Jules felt Stiles stiffen beside her. “It’s like you lose a limb.”

Jules dropped her head.

_Sara._

There was a part of her that would forever be bleeding out in a bathtub. A piece of her heart Jules would never get back. She felt her chest and throat tighten.

_If she was alive she’d testify. She’d be strong enough to do it. I would have brought her here and she could have moved into Gail’s room and…_

Her eyes burned. She had never figured out in what way she had loved Sara.

_It doesn’t matter. She’s dead._

“They wouldn’t even let him see the body.” Peter said about Ennis.

Jules couldn’t imagine why Ennis would want to.

_When you see someone you love dead. You don’t exactly get past it._

She looked back up, Stiles was watching her. He nudged her with his shoulder, eyebrows raised. She shrugged and reluctantly looked back in the general direction of Peter.

* * *

 

“What does this have to do with Derek?” Cora asked. Stiles thought she had a point. Right now Peter was just telling them about Ennis’s personal tragedy. At the time Derek was perfectly fine, he wasn’t even involved. Peter turned around.

“Everything.” He began walking away from the window. “It’s never just a single moment. It’s a confluence of events. Personally I looked at Ennis’s circumstances, I saw profound loss.”

Jules quietly scoffed. Stiles didn’t blame her. He had painted Peter as the sociopath everyone was sure he was. And Jules had to be good at reading people. Stiles didn’t think she would have reason to believe Peter felt sympathetic towards Ennis. Peter stood at the table, across from Jules. She leaned back slightly. “Derek saw something different. He saw opportunity.”

Stiles quirked an eyebrow. “Opportunity? To do what?” He asked.

“To always be with her.” Peter said.

Stiles frowned.

_People can’t always be with each other. Something will always get in the way._

Stiles knew that but he thought back to Scott. Just because someone’s head says one thing doesn’t mean their heart cares at all.

* * *

 

_I don’t trust one slimy word out of your mouth Peter._

Is what she wanted to say. But Jules kept her mouth shut and listened with a grain of salt. Peter Hale was telling the story of a relationship he wasn’t in, to people who weren’t there. Jules thought Peter knew he couldn’t lie outright without that coming back to get him, but he could spin the story. Frankly, Jules wanted a second source. She wondered what happened to Paige. But this story probably wouldn’t end well for her.

“I kept telling him not to do it.” Peter pressed.

Jules rolled her eyes at Stiles, he returned the look.

“Every day the more the thought about it the more convinced he became. You know teenagers. I bet he even blames me. He’s probably convinced himself the whole thing as my idea.” Peter looked at Cora.

“Probably was.” Jules muttered.

_Saying that is a good way to cover your own ass._

* * *

 

“They keep us connected to humanity.” Cora explained emissaries. “But they’re a secret, even in the pack. Sometimes only the alpha knows who the emissary is. Derek and I had no idea about Deaton.” 

“Or his sister, Morrell.” Peter added.

Jules blanched.

“She’s an emissary too?” Stiles said exactly what she as thinking.

“For the alpha pack.” Peter answered.

“What? She is an accessory to murder!” Jules said angrily, thinking of Boyd. Stiles looked at Jules and then back to Peter.

“Our guidance counsellor?” He looked at Cora. “Why the hell don’t you people tell me any of this stuff, huh? I shared some really intimate details with her.” He was angry.

Jules quirked an eyebrow. “Intimate? Interesting word choice.” She mused with a smirk. Morell had lead group sessions at Eichen House Jules had attended but never spoken in. She wasn’t a woman Jules would say she trusted.

Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Did she give you good advice?” Cora asked him.

“Actually yeah.” Stiles admitted, slightly confused. Jules prodded him.

“Accessory. Murder.” She reiterated.

“It'd be difficult to get her charged with that.” Stiles whispered.

“That’s what they do.” Peter interrupted them.

“Murder?” Jules asked. She was baffled.

“Advice.” Cora said shortly.

“That’s what Deaton used to do for Talia.” And Peter jumped back into the past.

* * *

 

“Wait, wait, wait.” Jules interrupted Peter as he said Paige’s name. “Deaton knew that Deucalion tried to make peace with Argents which clearly didn’t work and he hasn’t told us this?” She glanced at Stiles. “Doesn’t that strike you as weird? That’s seems relevant now that he is trying recruit Derek.” She paused and furrowed her brow. “Or kill him. I’m still not clear on that.”

Cora let out an exasperated sigh and Peter shot a glare at Jules. But she wasn’t paying attention. She was looking at Stiles.

“Sometimes Deaton doesn’t tell us everything. We just go with it.” Stiles said quickly and looked back to Peter. She reached forward and put her hand on his forearm. He stared at it. Hyperaware of the weight of her hand, the old and new scars and bruises.

“Yeah but it speaks to motive. He has a history in Beacon Hills, that has to be important. I just don’t see why Deaton isn’t telling us this.” She pressed.

“Well why don’t you leave and go ask him.” Peter drawled.

Anger bubbled up inside of Stiles as he watched her draw back into herself. Stiles knew Peter knew he made her uncomfortable. He probably liked that he could do it. Stiles then felt very compelled to hurl something at the man’s head.

“As I was saying…”Peter continued.

* * *

 

“Ennis?” Cora sounded shocked. “Why would he choose him?”

“Why not?” Peter retorted.

“Because he sounds like the most unstable of them all.” Jules said to Stiles. He nodded in agreement.

“Ennis needed a new member for his pack. Paige was young and strong.”

_Youth and strength is what monsters like._

“Doing a favor for Derek meant Ennis would be in good with Talia. Back then, everyone wanted to be in good with her.” Peter explained.

“Sounds like a crime ring.” Jules said bitterly, far too bitterly for it to be a joke.

* * *

 

“Did he turn her?” Stiles asked.

Jules felt sick. She hated this story. She didn’t see this as a tragic end to what could have been a great little romance.

“If he had Paige would never have forgiven him. Even young love couldn’t overcome that kind of…” She chose her next word carefully. “Violation.” She spat.

Peter glanced at her. “Maybe. But almost.” He began speaking about how he saw Ennis with Paige, her struggle to get away. “He came at Ennis. A fifteen year old boy against a giant.”

Jules bounced her foot up and down. She was seething. Everything about the story and the man telling it enraged her more than she was uncomfortable.

“But there was no reason for him to fight. She’d already been bitten.” Peter said in a flat tone.

Jules jumped to her feet. “Who did he think he was?!” She shouted, her hands shook with rage and her voice was raw. “What gave him or anyone the right to make that kind of decision for her?! Did anyone think about what she wanted? Did anyone care? You were there!” She screamed at Peter. He was visibly taken aback by her sudden outburst. “You knew and did it not occur to you to maybe tell somebody that your stupid nephew was planning on-”

“Hey, hey, hey.” Stiles stood between her and Peter. His hands were on her shoulders and his eyes bore into hers. “Jules.” He whispered and walked her a few paces away. Her heart hammered. Cora and Peter were watching them, her eyes darted between them.

_Don’t they get it? Cora has to understand what happened to Paige. Symbolically anyway. There is no other word._

She looked back up at Stiles. “He could use a different four letter word and what happened to Paige is something that could happen to anyone.” Her voice was low and biting. Stiles absentmindedly pushed a strand of hair from her face.

“I know.” He said in a sad voice. “If you want to-”

“I’m fine.” She cut him off, wanting to pretend a bit longer that maybe Stiles didn’t have any coherent ideas about what happened to her. Her voice had a bitter edge as she looked back to Peter. “What happened to Paige?”

* * *

 

“So did she turn?” Cora pushed Peter to finish the story. Stiles watched Jules play with the string of his hoodie; her eyes were trained on the window as she listened.

“She should have.” Peter said. “Most of the time the bite takes. Most of the time.”

Jules’s stomach dropped. She figured Paige met a horrible end, but nothing in mythology she was familiar with indicated that a bite from a werewolf might not take. Stiles’s head jerked up and he looked at Peter.

“When you offered it to me you said ‘if it doesn’t kill you’.” Jules’s head snapped up and she gaped at Stiles. He had left that part out of his retelling of what had happened the winter before. The string fell from her hands as she froze. For a moment she felt betrayed, she had trusted that he was telling her the truth.

_You know it’s stupid to think that you aren’t being lied to by omission. It’s all you do after all._

She scolded herself but couldn’t help but feel some anger towards him. Despite the hypocrisy.

_No. I asked him for the truth, the whole truth and so help me god what else did he leave out?_

He turned to her. Jules knew she looked pissed. She hoped he could figure out why.

“If.” Peter said quietly. Dragging Jules’s attention back to Paige.

 “It didn’t matter that she was young and strong.” Peter said. “Some people just aren’t made for this.” His voice was dark.

Jules’s stomach churned. She thought of her most recent cravings for an escape. How she had to tell herself all the time that understood what was happening. That she could handle it all. She glanced back at Stiles. His eyes were red and watering. She felt the urge to comfort him but pushed it down.

_You’re mad at him remember?_

“But she fought.” Peter continued.

Jules felt her own eyes began to burn.

“She struggled desperately, trying to survive.” Peter’s words were dramatic but they rang true.

Jules dropped her head and stared at her trembling hands. Her breath caught in her throat as she tried to stay calm. She listened to Peter tell them how Derek was trying to take her pain. How he held her as she died. Jules clenched her jaw to keep quiet. Her thoughts strayed from Paige.

* * *

 

_Jules held down with all the strength she had in her thin arms. Half of her was immersed in luke warm pink water as she dug into Sara’s wrists. Trying desperately to stop the bleeding. The issue was the bleeding was slowing already. There was only so much one tiny girl could lose before there was nothing left for her weak heart to pump feebly through her frail body. It covered Jules and ran down her arms and soaked her jeans and the sides of the cheap bathtub and the moldy floors. Jules wondered if it hurt. If the last weak beats of Sara’s heart caused her any pain. If her hands inside of her wrists caused her agony in the last minutes of her life. Jules was never sure if she had screamed for help. She didn’t think she did. She knew in her heart there was nothing she could do. Part of her had wished that Sara would die so that Jules didn’t have to grapple for her a life that was fast slipping away. That if Sara’s body stopped desperately struggling to stay alive maybe Sara could finally find peace. Sobs wracked her body and her tears joined the bloody water and mingled with what remained of her best friend. The last beat of her heart marked a promise. Jules would survive. She wouldn’t live in a world with no one to tell the story of Sara. Because what a sad story it had been._

* * *

 

Stiles could see Jules slipping out of reality. He grabbed her hands and her eyes snapped to his, wide and blue and shining like his were. Her hands were shaking in his and her chest shuddered with the rise and fall of her breath. He didn’t want to know where her mind had gone, but he wanted to bring her back. He moved just a bit closer to her, enough that their shoulders and hips were brushing. Cora was watching them. He shot her an annoyed look. Jules leaned forward slightly and rested her forehead on his shoulder. He briefly wondered if she’d forgotten if there were other people around or if she just didn’t care at that point. If comfort mattered more then what they thought was going on inside of her head. Stiles let go of one of her hands and brought his arm around her shoulders and held her tightly. He felt her relax, if only a little. But that was all he had wanted. Stiles hoped for a moment that she trusted him, by now she must. Jules climbed into his car with ease and asked him for help getting back into her own house. He felt her hand tighten around his as they listened to Peter explain how Derek had pulled Paige close in his arms and held her as tightly as he could. How they’d clung to each other as he held tighter and tighter until her weak body couldn’t take it. He felt Jules wince and he felt the same.

“I remember taking her body from his arms.” Peter said. “And bringing it to the woods, to a place where I knew that it would be found. Another in a long line of Beacon Hills animal attacks.” He voice was quiet, soft almost. But Stiles could still see the parts of him that unnerved everybody he met.

He leaned over slightly and rested his head on top of hers. He hadn’t expected to hear something so horrible.

“And what about Derek?” Cora asked, still focused on why they were learning all this in the first place.

“Taking an innocent life takes… something from you as well.” Peter was looking at his hands. “A bit of your soul, darkening it, dimming the one brilliant, golden yellow to a cold steel blue.” He said slowly. “Like mine.” He added.

Stiles wondered if Peter’s eyes were blue before he had killed Laura. His eyes flicked down to Jules. He noted that her hair was soft and that it smelt like peppermint. She was still shaking. He wanted to do more for her but with Cora and Peter around he was stuck to the way they were. The second issue was he couldn’t find words. He didn’t know how to comfort her because he didn’t know for sure what was going through her mind at the moment. He rubbed small circles on her arm with his hand and hoped that for now,it would be enough.

* * *

 

“What?” Cora asked Stiles. Jules was only half listening.

The three of them were seated near the door of the loft, not far from where Jules had watched Boyd die only a few nights before. Jules was quiet as she sat right at Stiles’s side. Her thoughts flip flopping between Derek, who had now lost two people he cared about by his own hand, not to mention the guilt he must feel about the fire. And Sara, the way it had felt to feel her die. Stiles was rubbing his hands together, he looked deep in thought.

“What this, what’s this look on your face?” She asked, gesturing to her own face in the process.

“What look?” He asked her.

Cora rolled her eyes. “The kind of look that makes me want to punch you.”

 “That’s his ‘thinking’ face.” Jules said in a detached sort of voice.

“Oh my god you are so Derek’s sister. I forgot.” He deadpanned.

“Well what is with the look?” She pressed.

“I just don’t believe him.” He stated and moved so that he was facing Cora. Jules leaned forward deciding to actually inject herself into the conversation. “All right, in Miss Blake’s class we’re reading Heart of Darkness and it’s in first person right? Narrated by Marlow.” He glanced at Jules.

“And he is an unreliable narrator.” Her eyes flicked from Cora to Stiles who looked at her sheepishly. “We know that details have been changed because-”

“Of his perspective.” Stiles finished.

“Well then we heard the story from Peter’s perspective.” Cora said.

Stiles nodded. “Right and I don’t think we got the whole story.”

Jules looked at Cora. “Like when Peter was telling us that he was trying to stop Derek. He couldn’t have been. Like I was semi incoherently yelling earlier if he had really tried to stop him he could have gone to Talia.” She insisted “And no teenage boy in love would purposely think to do something he thought his girlfriend might not survive. At least I don’t think that makes any sense. Someone gave him the idea.” She looked at Stiles and then back to Cora. “That someone being Peter.”

“So what, are you just gonna ask Derek about the girl he fell in love with and then killed?” She asked him slowly.

Jules watched the gears turn in Stiles’s head.

“If I have to…” He said, looking at the ground. “Yeah.” He brought his eyes back up to Cora. Jules gaped at him.

“No. Let’s not ask people about the people they loved who they watched die.” Her eyes were focused on Stiles but she knew her words would hit the place in Cora’s heart where Boyd had been. And she watched Stiles’s face change, something painful passed through his eyes and Jules wanted to take back her words.

_His mother._

* * *

 

Jules was a few steps ahead of Stiles as they left when they finally stepped out into the chilly night Jules checked her phone. “I’ve gotta get home.” She muttered.

Stiles stood at her shoulder watching her closely. “Are you okay?” He asked in a soft voice.

“What kind of question is that?” She scoffed. “None of us are okay.”

Jules was staring up at Stiles, waiting for a response.

“When Peter was talking about Paige dying. That was personal and I-” Stiles didn’t get to finish.

“Clearly not personal enough for you not to ask.” She said in a sharp voice, a collage of images flooding her mind.

“I’m sorry but after Scott…” He looked incredibly pained. Jules wanted to reach out, to help him instead of vice versa but she was frozen. “I saw you talking to him. I saw you that entire night. It felt like you’d seen it before.” His voice was hardly audible, unlike him. But they were standing close enough to each other that she could hear every breath he took.

_I saw you._

To Jules the words seemed oddly intimate. She sighed and rubbed her face.

_What do I say? What does he want me to say?_

She looked at him. He didn’t look like he wanted anything. Jules got the feeling she could say anything and it would be okay. Jules stared open mouthed at him; she didn’t know what she wanted to say. But the best part was he didn’t know her like anyone else did. He didn’t have an idea of what she should do or say or think. What the old Jules might have done. Jules had to make a decision. She could shut down like she always did or she could say something. Anything that would get rid of a fraction of the burden she carried.

_“Some people just aren’t made for this.”_

“Her name was Sara.” Jules spoke so quietly she wasn’t sure if Stiles had heard her. Her eyes left his. “She was the first.”

_The first person I cared about after I was taken, the first person who cared about me, the first person I watched die, the first person I knew who had killed themselves._

She was also the last of many things. After Sara Jules hadn’t let herself care about any of the other girls. Each of them became transient figures she resigned herself to not being able to help.

_Is doing nothing the same as not saving them? If I was a werewolf? What color would my eyes be?_

Jules looked back up at Stiles. She had just handed him the one thing that nobody knew about, even if it was just a name and assumptions for him to make and he handed her back a small smile and a soft look on his face. Stiles took the first step towards the jeep.

“Let me drive you home.”

* * *

 

As Stiles drove away from Jules’s quiet home his thoughts stayed with her. There was so much he wanted to know. Why had she been so determined to know what she knew would most likely hurt her? Why had she gone into that rest stop bathroom? Or into the gasoline? Or charging up to the loft alone? He was getting pieces; she was giving them to him. Enough for him to decipher some of the meaning behind the things she said and the decisions she made. But not enough for him to understand.

_Does she want to save people because people saved her or because she couldn’t save someone?_

He didn’t want to dwell on what was her business. He didn’t want to make assumptions. But one thing bothered him through his short drive home. Who had Sara been?

Stiles had resigned to not wanting to know the whole truth of who she had been to Jules. And he didn’t want to think on why it nagged at him.

* * *

 

_“Perfect combinations are rare in an imperfect world”. Very insightful Peter._

She rolled around in her bed with bitter thoughts. Trying to find sleep. Jules was more reluctant to take the pills now than ever. What she had dubbed the “Dilaudid Incident” had made her reluctant to touch any drug. But she knew what would happen if she skipped on her daily medication.

_Crushing anxiety and paranoia. Frequent and extreme mood swings. Great._

She curled herself up in her blanket like a cocoon and shut her eyes willing herself to sleep.

_Would I ever find someone who I fit with perfectly? Perfection doesn’t actually exist so that’s stupid question to ask. Isn’t it just one jigsaw puzzle piece trying to find another and the closest fitting piece is jammed in the place of perfection? It works sure, but maybe it has to bend or be shoved or something has to change for it do to so. There is no perfect. But if psycho Peter believes in perfect combinations maybe they do exist for some lucky bastards._

Jules untangled herself from her blankets and changed potions. She thought about Stiles.

  _It was his shady behavior that roped me into this._

He was the first boy she saw that she didn’t want to shy away from. The first person she’d mentioned Sara to because… Jules wasn’t too sure why. Even if there were pieces he didn’t know she had mentioned Sara.  A girl that she hardly ever mentioned to herself and he had decided that the best thing to do with that information was to be kind and offer her a ride home. Because he probably knew by now she didn’t like to ask for help. But he was always offering it. Jules thought back to the feeling of his head on her and his arm wrapped tightly around her shoulders. She wanted to be able to do the same. But he always seemed like he had himself together. The only time she could remember Stiles breaking down was at the hotel.

_Whereas I, an emotional disaster am very close to a nervous breakdown all the time._

She pounded her pillow.

_And I keep ending up next to him._


	12. The Girl Who Knew Too Much

**Didn't update this in as timely a manner as usual, such is life. My bad.**

** Chapter Twelve – The Girl Who Knew Too Much **

* * *

 

“Do you need me there?” Jules whispered urgently from where she lay outside of her bathroom on the roof. She was staring up at the clear night sky listening to her friends talk on the other end of the line. They were at the school; they just found the dead body of a deputy. 

_And I'm star gazing. Good for me._

“No, Jules it’s okay.” Lydia said to her. “We’re fine.”

_That’s a bit of an ill-fitting blanket statement considering you find dead people but…_

“Okay. But she’s a deputy so does that mean…” She trailed off. There was shuffling of the phone. “Lydia?”

“Stiles.” He answered. “Yeah. A deputy so it must be guardians.”

“Deputy.” Jules said slowly. “Not a Detective? Because you could call Detective philosophers if you were reaching and if you were running out of time.”

“What do you mean running out of time?” Stiles asked her.

Jules heard Allison’s voice. “Running out of time?”

“I mean the lunar eclipse is in like three days right? That kind of has to be important doesn’t it?” She whispered, staring at the bright night sky above her head. She remembered that Boyd's last words were about the eclipse. 

_Maybe that's clouding my judgement._

“We just don’t like any kind of full moon. Eclipse or not." Stiles said pointedly. "What are you saying? That the next six bodies could all happen in the next three days?” She could hear the voices of her friends getting quieter, like he was stepping away from them, or they were falling into silence at the sound of his words. Her thoughts, zipping out of the mouth of a hyperactive teenage boy.

“Stiles I’ll need that back!” Lydia shouted, maybe in regards to her phone.

Jules sighed. “I don’t know. What do you think?”

A tense silence followed her question and Jules knew that he didn’t have another idea. After another moment Stiles sighed. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Jules nodded and then remembered that he couldn’t see her. “Yeah, can you give Lydia back her phone?”

* * *

 

Charlotte gave her daughter a small smile as they climbed into the car. Jules had wanted to bike to school but she had insisted.

“It’s on the way.”

Jules had grunted in response.

Their drive was an awkward silence until they were nearing the end of it. Charlotte had finally mustered up the courage she needed to say something.

“Listen sweetheart I am so-” She started softly.

“I hate being called sweetheart. The word is kind of ruined for me.” Jules said in a dead voice. Her daughter’s leg bounced up and down. Charlotte wanted to know what was distracting her. She wanted to know what was causing the late nights and the constant texting and she wanted to know who the phone number had belonged to.

“Juliet, I just want to make sure you know that I love you.” She said in a breathy voice.

Jules raised her eyebrows. “Seriously?” She asked incredulously. “And the way you think to show that is accusing me of…” She trailed off and looked back out the window. “You should know better.” Jules muttered as they pulled into the school parking lot. She was out of the car before Charlotte had even come to a full stop. Charlotte watched as her daughter charged through the milling students, she saw where she was headed. A boy with brown hair wearing a plaid shirt was crouched behind a pillar. Charlotte wanted desperately to know who he was and what he had to do with her daughter.

* * *

 

Jules appeared right at Stiles’s side, accidently bumping into him.

“Wha- hey.” He said distractedly and they both peered around the corner at the Sheriff.  The Sheriff begun to walk over. Stiles shoved his backpack behind his head in a poor attempt to hide himself. Jules darted away.

“Hey! Hey, hey, hey.” He called, Jules kept walking. “Back it up.” She kept moving. “Both of you.” He ordered. She stopped, reversed and turned around. Looking very sheepish.

“I know what you’re thinking.” He said to them. “I know you two have got all these ideas about patterns and people dying in threes.”

_You know he has ideas. Unless Stiles's has mentioned me in his theories._

Her eyes flicked to him.

_Why would he do that?_

“Dad murdered, okay? Sacrificed actually.” Stiles interrupted his father. Jules nodded beside him, giving silent encouragement. The Sheriff's eyes flicked to her.

“I’ve got half the state, including the FBI, coming in on this. They’re not getting away with killing one of our own.” Sheriff explained in an assuring voice.

Jules’s stomach clenched.

“Dad, they killed Tara.” Stiles sounded pained. Jules didn’t realize that he was on a first name basis with the murdered deputy. “You know how many times did she help me with my math homework when I had to wait at the station for you?”

_Math homework…_

Stiles's father sighed and looked sadly at the both of them. “Just uh, get to class okay?” And then he reluctantly turned and waked away. Stiles begrudgingly put his backpack back on and turned towards the school. She could tell he was upset. Jules reached up and touched his shoulder.

“I’m sorry.” She said quietly.

She saw his eyes flick to her hand. He pressed his lips together and sighed. “Yeah, me to.” He muttered and put his hand on her back. “We have English.”

Jules furrowed her brow. “Do you think Blake is gonna show up? I wouldn’t after witnessing that.”

Stiles looked down at her, puzzled. “You did. You’re right here.” He gestured around them.

“Yeah but I know what’s going on. I mean by now she’s probably making up reasons behind what she saw and trying to convince herself she’d not crazy. That certainly can’t be fun.” She said matter-of-factly. Stiles fell quiet for a moment as they walked.

“Do you think the police are going to find anything?” He asked her nervously.

Jules nodded. “I didn’t need proof of the supernatural to think that some psycho was copying druid rituals. They’ll figure that much out eventually, especially with the FBI involved but they’ll never catch it. They probably just think this is an escalating pattern of a serial killer. Catching it? That’s up to…” She trailed off. They knew it was up to them. A group of teenagers with no one else to help them out. She let out a small sigh.

_This blows._

* * *

 

Jules watched Miss Blake pace around the classroom, teaching who knows what. Jules hated the classroom setting. She worked best independently, without the click of Blake’s heels on the floor or having to look over the stupid haircut of the boy in front of her. She watched from the corner of her eye as Blake spoke to Lydia.

“I wasn’t aware you had so many hidden talents.” She said.

Jules whipped around in her seat.

_What do you mean “so many”? She’s drawing something, that’s one hidden talent. What do you mean? What do you know?_

Jules scolded herself.

_Paranoia strikes again._

“You and every guy I’ve ever dated.” Lydia quipped.

Jules rolled her eyes as Blake begin to tie in class discussion to her conversation and tuned the woman out. But she turned when she felt eyes on her. Blake’s eyes. Sliding between Stiles, her, Scott and Lydia.

“Like chess.” Stiles said, it looked like to himself. Jules decided she should probably be listening to her teacher if Stiles felt like it was worth it to participate.

“That’s right Stiles. Do you play?” She asked him.

_I do._   _I did._

Stiles looked up at her, unprepared for the sudden spotlight. “Uh, no. My father does.” He answered.

Blake didn’t say anything in response and just smiled and continued to teach. Jules lapsed back into her own head.

“I think I can get to Ethan.” Scott said to Stiles. “I’m pretty sure I can make him talk.”

_Can’t I daydream in peace without you people discussing something important?_

She turned around. “Why? He just killed Boyd.” She pointed out. Stiles looked to her then to Scott.

“Yeah, what do you want to do that for?” He asked Scott.

“The druids are emissaries right?” Scott said to him. “So what if the Darach was an emissary to the alphas?”

Jules turned to him. “That would speak to motive. If sacrifices are made in preparation for battle and everyone takes vendettas so seriously this could be preparation for taking them on.” She thought out loud. Stiles glanced at her.

“Okay, first of all I do not understand how this stuff just pops into your head.” He said to Jules in an irritated sort of voice. She shot him a mockingly proud grin. “Secondly ,I cannot believe that we’ve gotten to the point where a sentence like ‘What if the Darach was an emissary to the alphas?’ actually makes sense to me and third of all we’re gonna have a huge problem getting to Ethan.”

“What’s that?” Scott asked him.

 “Going through Aiden.” Stiles answered.

“The eviler of the evil twins.” Jules sighed.

“Ever since he’s been back at school they’re always together. How are we gonna separate them again?” Stiles asked. The two boys fell quiet for a moment and exchanged knowing looks. Jules frowned as they turned to Lydia.

“What now?” Lydia asked them.

Scott and Stiles’s plan clicked for Jules. “No.” She stated. They looked back at her. She was glowering at them furiously. “You cannot ask her to do that for you.” She said in a dark voice. “Do him for you.” She corrected. “That’s disgusting and wrong and kind of verging on...” She hissed and locked eyes with Lydia. She saw Stiles’s expectant look falter and Scott frown. Lydia rolled her eyes confidently.

“Jules. It’s fine.” She said concisely.

Jules shot a glare at the two boys as she turned back to face the front of the class.

_It’s really not._

* * *

 

As soon as the bell rang Jules begrudgingly followed Scott and Stiles on the hunt for Ethan. And was very vocal about her opposition to what Lydia was doing at the moment.

“We don’t like it either.” Stiles said to her.

Jules looked baffled. “First of all are you patronizing me? And secondly- THEN YOU DIDN’T HAVE TO ASK HER TO!” She yelled at him causing heads to turn. She shot spiteful looks at a passing group of freshman as she Scott and Stiles ducked into a soon to be empty stairwell.

“I am not patronizing you.” He tried to assure her.

She crossed her arms and scowled. “That’s the kind of thing someone patronizing me would say.” She stated.

Stiles’s eyes widened and he dramatically rolled his eyes. “For the love of god.” He hissed. “Jules I-”

“Guys.” Scott cut him off as Stiles was about to leap into what was most likely a rant. Scott flicked his eyes to the person coming down the stairs. Jules felt the sudden urge to flee and stepped away from the approaching boy. Stiles stayed at her side. Ethan was a murderer and she was terrified of him, but she was also mind numbingly furious with him. He was a killer, how could she not be?

“You’re infuriating.” He whispered to her. She smirked, she knew the difference between real and melodramatic anger and she knew her smiling would piss him off even more. Because even if his anger wasn’t real Jules knew that now wasn’t the best time to chastise Scott and Stiles but when it was time…

_I am going to verbally kick their asses._

“Why are you even talking to me?” Ethan opened with.

_Nice, very polite. But an excellent question._

“I helped kill your friend.” He said as if they may have forgotten. “How do you know I’m not gonna kill another one.” His eyes flicked to Stiles and Jules as he spoke to Scott.

“Is he looking at me?” Stiles said to Scott. “Are you threatening me?” He asked Aiden incredulously. “You know what I’m gonna do?” Stiles got up from leaning on the wall. “I’m gonna break off an extra-large branch of mountain ash, wrap it in wolfs bane, roll it in mistletoe and shove it up your freaking-” He shouted

“Stiles okay, we get it.” Scott stepped in front of his friend and patted his chest, easing him back from Ethan. Jules looked between the two of them and then to Ethan and without missing a beat lept spitefully into the conversation.

“I’m gonna go back to Glen Capri, steal that saw I helped save you from and cut you half.” She said in a deadly calm voice. There was nothing hypothetical about it and she hoped that was written in the hard lines of her face. A part of her regretted helping save him.

Scott looked at her and Stiles exasperatedly and Stiles held out his hand. She high fived him weakly, shooting Stiles a venomous glare as she did it. A look of hurt passed over his face. Scott turned back to Ethan.

 “We’re talking to you because I know that you didn’t want to kill Boyd. And I think that if something like that happened now, you wouldn’t do it again.” Scott said in a confident voice.

_Common interrogation tactic, assure them that you don’t blame them and get more information. Smart move._

“You don’t know what we owe them. Especially Deucalion.” Ethan said.

Jules’s stomach clenched and churned. Anger burned like fire in her veins.

* * *

 

_“You owe me. You know it could be so much worse.” His breathe was on her neck, her hands clenched into brittle fists. She would fight if it wouldn’t be futile, she would fight if she had something to lose. Or maybe that was why she should, there was no one left to care if she got hurt. Jules raised her bloodshot eyes to his, and drove her sharp fist into his stomach._

* * *

 

She shuddered. “You don’t owe him anything.” She said, mostly to herself. Ethan shook his head at her.

“We weren’t like Kali and Ennis when we met him. We weren’t alphas.” He explained.

Jules rolled her eyes.

_Is this going to be a sob story? It better not be a sob story or I am gonna rip my hair out._

“What were you?” Scott asked.

“Omegas.” Ethan answered in a small voice.

_Oh my god. Here we go._

She glanced at Stiles, eyebrows raised. He returned the look of disbelief.

* * *

 

“In actual wolf packs Omegas are the scape goats.” Stiles knew this already. He didn’t want to hear about it from Ethan. “The last to eat, the one who has to take the abuse form the rest of the pack.” Stiles could practically feel Jules’s anger radiating.

“So you and your brother were like, the bitches of the pack?” He confirmed.

“Something like that.” Ethan agreed.

“What happened?” Scott urged him to continue. Stiles didn’t want to hear Ethan’s life story.

“They were killers.” Ethan said in a strained voice. “I mean, people talk about us as monsters.”

“Can’t imagine why.” Jules grumbled. Ethan ignored her.

“Well they were the ones who gave us the reputation.”

“You aren’t exactly helping break that cycle are you?” Jules asked harshly, Ethan continued to brush off her comments. Stiles frowned, after everything Jules must have seen, every word out of Ethan's mouth must have pushed every button she had.

“And our alpha was the worst of them.” Ethan finished.

“Why didn’t you guys just fight back? Form Voltron wolf you know? Kick everyone’s asses?” Stiles asked.

Jules elbowed him, “Abuse has a very complicated psychology.” She whispered to Stiles. He wondered if she was defending him now, or maybe she wasn’t even talking about Ethan.

“That wasn’t it.” Ethan defended. “We didn’t know how to control it back then.”

Jules narrowed her eyes. “And what? Good old Duke taught you how?” Her voice was sharp and poisonous, if she was afraid Stiles could no longer tell.

“And then we fought. We took down the whole pack, one by one and by the time we got to our alpha, he was begging for his life! And we tore him apart. Literally.” Ethan told them. Jules stepped back, pushing into the wall but she scowled at Ethan and opened her mouth to speak.

“What about your emissary?” Scott asked him, cutting off Jules before she began. That might have been for the best.

Ethan shook his head.

“They’re all dead? Kali and Ennis’s too?” Scott pressed.

 “All of them. Except for Deucalion.” Ethan said.

“You mean Morrell?” Stiles asked.

Ethan nodded and his eyes flicked to Jules. “What?” He snapped. Stiles glared at him but she didn’t look perturbed. Just livid.

“Just because you were treated horribly doesn’t mean you get to do the same to everyone else!” She shouted at him. “People perceive you and your little friends like monsters because that’s what you are!” Her eyes flicked to Scott. “I’ll add its cause you’re terrible people not actual physical monsters.”

Ethan glowered at her and Stiles resisted the urge to step between them. “You wouldn’t understand.” Ethan snapped.

“Oh, I think I just might.” She hissed at him. “You’d be surprised by the monsters I’ve had the pleasure of dealing with, jackass. They’re scarier then you.” She took a step towards him and Stiles reached out and stopped her. Ethan looked furious but before he could reply his breath hitched and he clutched his chest.

“What, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?” Scott asked urgently.

“Not me.” Ethan shook his head. “My brother.”

Jules sighed.

Scott and Ethan took off down the rest of the stairs, Stiles followed.

She groaned. “Fine!” She shouted andran after them.

* * *

 

Jules heard Lydia screaming before anything else. She wrenched open the door to the locker room and ran to her friend’s side. They hovered above a hurt and disoriented Cora. Stiles crouched next to them as Scott and Ethan grabbed Aiden. They shoved the weight out of Aiden’s hand and Jules looked over Lydia, making sure she was alright.

“You can’t do this!” Ethan shouted at his brother.

“She came at me!” Aiden growled his eyes were set on the semi-conscious Hale.

“It doesn’t matter!” Ethan kept holding Aiden back. “Kali gave Derek until the next full moon. You can’t touch him, or her.” He looked at Cora.

_Werewolf politics. I understand nothing._

Jules looked at Lydia; the redhead was glaring mutinously at Aiden. Ethan nodded to Scott and dragged his brother away. Jules stared poisonously after them, tempted to pick up the biggest weight she could lift and hurl it at them. She knew that it wouldn’t inflict much damage but it was the thought that counted. Jules didn’t like Cora but she didn’t want her dead. She turned her attention to the werewolf.

“Hey guys I think she’s pretty hurt.” Stiles said worriedly.

Jules scooted past Lydia and leaned over Cora’s head. “Hand me your phone.” She said to nobody in particular as she brushed hair from Cora’s face. Lydia held out her cell phone and Jules could feel her friends watching her as she held open each of Cora’s eyes and shined the flashlight into them. One of her pupils didn’t react.

_That’s not good._

She set down Lydia’s phone. “Jules?” Scott asked. “Jules what?” Jules didn’t answer.

“Cora? Cora can you hear me?” Jules asked softly and snapped her fingers next to Cora’s ear.

Evidently, Cora could hear her because Cora grabbed Jules’s arm, twisted and pulled. Effectively forcing Jules into summersault onto her back. Jules heard several exclaims of protest from her friends but she stayed quiet and watched exasperated as Cora stumbled to her feet.

“Could you rejoin me on the floor maybe? Or perhaps find an ambulance to lie down in if that’s more to your comfort level?” Jules offered the angry and disoriented Cora.

_I’m not even mad you just decked me._

Jules knew why. She would be happy to challenge Cora to some form of physical combat if they were on equal footing.

_Like I get one of the suits the dudes who train police dogs wear._

But the moment Aiden had first, had the audacity to think it was okay to be seduced by Lydia after he’d killed Boyd in front of her and second, attacked someone smaller and weaker then him and third, did that in front of Lydia. She would be happy to let the Darach kill him if that was what it wanted to do and she wouldn’t be heartbroken if a tragic accident befell Cora. But Aiden had no reason to hurt her other than alpha male mentality, a state of mind not limited to werewolves and loathed by Jules.

Cora ignored Jules and leaned over the sink; she grabbed a towel and began to wipe the blood from her forehead.

“You okay?” Stiles asked.

“Ye-” Jules started as she sat up, before realizing that he wasn’t asking her. Jules shot him an annoyed look that Stiles wasn’t paying attention to and Lydia rolled her eyes. Jules quirked an eyebrow at her and Lydia just shook her head like she was disappointed. But in what or who, Jules had no idea. Jules winced as she pushed herself to her feet and she grabbed her shoulder. Pangs of pain shot up and down her arm every time she moved it.

“She doesn’t look okay.” Lydia said.

And Lydia was right. Cora was pale and unsteady but not impressed with the attention she was getting.

“I’ll heal.” She said shortly as she stepped away from the sink and stumbled backwards. Jules winced as she reached out to steady her. She abandoned the idea when Scott and Stiles were already at her sides. Cora brushed them off.

“I said I’m fine.” She didn’t sound fine either.

“Do you realize how suicidally crazy that was? What were you thinking going after them?” Stiles asked her sincerely.

“I did it for Boyd!” She snapped.

“To do what? Join him in the afterlife? Is this” Jules gestured to the mess of a locker room “what he would have wanted?”

Cora looked murderous. “None of you were doing anything.”

“We’re trying.” Scott defended them.

“And you’re failing.” Cora told them.

Rage boiled inside of Jules. After she’d lost Sara, Jules hadn’t had someone to temper her rages, to pull on the leash that was her big mouth. Without Sara, Jules had nearly gotten herself killed. She understood what Cora was experiencing; she just didn’t know how to tell her.

“You’re just a bunch of stupid teenagers, running around, thinking that you can stop people from getting killed. But all you do is show up late.” She looked at them, her voice was empty. Jules avoided looking at Cora or the others. “All you really do is find the bodies.” And then she turned and walked away.

“She’s definitely a Hale.” Stiles commented.

Jules didn’t know Derek at all, she had nothing to think of that statement and she went after Cora. A series of stories and sentences bouncing around in her head. Unbeknownst that Stiles was following.

* * *

 

Stiles had been surprised to see Jules stop Cora and tell that her she understood exactly what had just happened. He frowned, worry creeping into his chest. Those two didn’t get along and under no circumstances should be left alone together. Cora was quiet so Jules must have taken that as a cue to keep talking.

_No. No. No. No. What are you doing?_

Stiles stayed around the corner from them, waiting to intervene.

“A friend of mine killed herself and I had a lot of people to blame. And I did exactly that.” There was a silence and Stiles peered around the corner to see Jules had turned her right shoulder to Cora. She was pointing to a spot underneath the t-shirt she had moved aside. Stiles couldn’t see anything, but it wasn’t him Jules was turned to. He waited for Cora to tell Jules to do something unsavory but that didn’t happen.

“Beer bottle.” Jules said heavily.

“Why are you telling me this?” Cora asked in an incredulous voice.

Stiles heard Jules sigh. “Because your brother is in the wind, your uncle is a sociopath and the only other person you had, you cared about, is dead. You don’t deserve to feel alone in your pain.” Jules said in a soft but strong voice. “Nobody does.” And with that Jules walked past Cora and down the hallway, away from them.

Stiles’s eyes followed her. Trying to comprehend what he had just witnessed. Trying to piece together what he knew and what he heard about Jules. The before and the after. He walked up to Cora and offered her a ride but he couldn’t stop thinking about it. What she had just done for Cora seemed so out of character. He remembered her hand on his shoulder that morning telling him she was sorry about Tara. So then what did he knew about her really? From before he knew that used to pick fights with boys who hurt girls on the playground. He knew that she would follow her sister or Lydia anywhere. He knew that she didn’t speak up in class. But from after? He knew her better, he knew her. They’d actually spoken. He didn’t know the simple stuff. The simple parts of knowing someone but the complicated parts were just as much of a mystery. As he walked outside with Cora and helped her into his car he came to the stiff conclusion that he wanted to know them. The stupid things like her favorite color or TV show and the more complicated ones. Like what made her want to rush headfirst into almost anything she wasn’t prepared for or what gave her the strength to handle all that she did. Stiles felt something close to nausea as he started driving. Because he was one hundred percent certain he knew one immensely important thing about Juliet Hayes.

She would be a very hard person to figure out.

And Stiles hoped it was just curiosity or the detective’s nature they both shared that pushed this desire on him. But he knew in his heart, it was something else.

 


	13. The Girl Who Knew Too Much II

**So I'm posting this one basically right after the last one mostly because I like the stuff that happens in this one a lot and I'm also about tog et really busy and I'm procrastinating doing something else at the moment... so, here this is super ahead of schedule.**

** Chapter Thirteen – The Girl Who Knew Too Much II **

* * *

 

“And guardians, which has to mean something like law enforcement, right?” Allison said.

Jules paced around in the girls bathroom. She did not like group phone calls. Especially not with Stiles probably verging on being frantic and Allison fearing that her father is somehow the Darach.

“Stiles you have to tell your dad.” Allison said strongly. “Tell him whatever you need but you have to get him to believe.” She urged. “Tell your dad. Warn him.”

Jules’s heart sank. She couldn’t imagine what Stiles was feeling. Although her own father was responsible for the safety of people in Beacon Hills. She knew that the murders were taking a toll on him too. She could tell by his sleepless nights, and the hard slope of his shoulders and the new lines in his face. Unless there was something else she didn't know about. 

“Okay, okay, okay I know.” Stiles said quickly.

“What are you gonna do?” Jules heard Cora’s voice.

Jules yanked her hair out of its ponytail and raked her fingers through it, pacing faster. Her heart raced.

“Stiles do, do you want me to come? To help I can-I can find a way to uh to-” She stuttered out. Wondering how in the hell she would get there. How she could help.

“Jules, it’s alright.” He assured. His voice was steady, she marveled at him. How could he seem so calm? “I’m gonna tell him the truth. And I’m gonna need your help.” Jules knew he was speaking to Cora and she hung up on him without another word.

_Right, cause she’s actually a supernatural creature and that makes logical sense. You can’t do anything for him._

“Allison, are you still there?” She asked anxiously.

“Yeah.” Allison said in a small voice. “Isaac is with me.”

“Is there anything I can do? Tell me something I can do.” She asked her desperately, in need of a task, something to make her feel like she was helping.

“I don’t know. Just stay at school.” Allison sounded frustrated.

“Someone else is about to disappear if the Darach is trying to tick them all off by the full moon! I can’t just stay at school!” She shouted.

A girl walked into the bathroom “I am having a crisis. Use the one on the second floor.” Jules hissed at her. The brunette rolled her eyes and left muttering something about Jules being a lunatic.

_Lunatic. I’ll show you lunatic._

She fell quiet.

“Jules?” Isaac’s voice came over the phone. “Just stay where you are. You’ll figure something out.” His voice was soft and the line went dead. She slid her phone back into her pocket and clutched the sides of one of the sinks. Her breath was heavy.

_Lunatic._

She went to find Scott.

* * *

 

Jules found him standing numbly outside of the guidance office.

“Hey.” She said urgently. “I have a weird theory.”

He raised his eyebrows. “What do you think about Deucalion?” he asked her, the question seemed out of the blue.

_Did I mention Deucalion?_

“Scott, I’ve never met Deucalion, why would you ask me?” She was puzzled.

“Because you understand people.” He said in a quiet voice. “Morell called him an obsessive.”

“So is the Darach.” Jules blurted out.

The two of them began walking out of the crowded hallway. “What do you mean?” He asked her. Jules guessed that he knew what she meant, what he wanted was an explanation.

“Organized serial killers have to be. And supernatural crap aside, that’s what the Darach is. An organized serial killer. It’s been orchestrating everything to work to its advantage. The bus trip, attempting to sacrifice Deaton the same night Kali went after Derek, Danny. And the Darach is here because of the alpha pack, I don’t see how it can’t be obsessive. Which means it was following them for who knows how long-” She spoke quickly, pacing as she did.

“Jules what are you trying to say?” He interrupted her.

“I think the Darach is someone in this school. Someone with access to coach and teachers and students and this place is on a current. Being a teacher is the perfect cover, everyone trusts them.” Her voice was rising with her agitation. 

“So you just said all that to tell me that you think the Darach is a teacher?” He confirmed.

Jules nodded sheepishly.

“Why didn’t you say this sooner?” He asked her sincerely. Jules realized he meant sooner as in days ago and not sooner as in earlier in her rambling.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about how human logic can be applied to this. You think like a human. It would make sense that the Darach would to. This is just human behavior. I just trust you guys on the supernatural stuff more.” She admitted, keeping her eyes away from Scott’s. She could feel her heart spiking and was suddenly self-conscious that Scott could hear it. She glanced at him; he didn’t look upset, at least not with her.

“Who do you think it is?” He asked, he sounded like he genuinely wanted to know what she thought. Like he trusted her opinion.

_Do you trust me? Why?_

Jules frowned. “That, I’m still working on.”

Someone screamed. A very distinctive scream. Scott and Jules exchanged knowing looks.

“Lydia.” They said.

* * *

 

Jules and Scott sprinted towards the sound but they were met with a crowd of students gathered around the room, they pushed through. A school security officer stopped them. Jules was tempted to stomp on his foot. But there was nothing conspicuous about doing that. She put the thought aside and looked to her friend, furious that somehow Aiden had weaseled his way to her side.

“Him I would kill. I would definitely murder him.” Jules muttered. Her eyes set darkly on Aiden. Scott let out a short laugh.

"You can try when this is over." He said jokingly.

_If something else doesn't get to him first. Or me, for that matter._

“All we know is that Mr. Westover didn’t show up for class.” Blake said soothingly.

“And the last time that happened was Mr. Harris. Anyone heard from him lately?” Lydia rebutted.

“And the music teacher!” Jules shouted at them. The guard shushed her.

“They’re gone.” Lydia said to Blake. Aiden’s hands were on her arm, the hairs on the back of Jules’s neck stood up. Jules kept her eyes on Blake; the woman looked at a loss.

_Poor thing, so young, so confused._

“And he’s going to be the second murder.” Lydia stated.

Jules heard the whispers of other students, most of them about the mental state of Lydia. Jules glowered at a few of them, sending them into silence.

_That’s right. I know you guys think I’m crazy. I’ll kick your ass. Name a time and a place._

She narrowed her eyes at a wiry sophomore.

_I could take you._

“Lydia. You wrote that number.” Blake pointed out, for the benefit of whom, Jules could not say. Jules nudged Scott.

“She knows werewolves exist by now. Like, what does she think is happening here?” She whispered and he shrugged in response.

“Okay fine.” Lydia huffed in an irritated voice.

_Oh god what are you going to say?_

“I’m psychic.” She stated confidently.

Jules buried her face in her hands and let out a quiet groan as more students began to talk.

“You’re psychic?” Blake asked incredulously.

“I’m something!” Lydia shouted, earning looks from everyone.

“You’re crazy is what you are.” A boy muttered to his friend. Jules turned around; he was only a few inches taller than her and skinny. She took a step towards him and he took a step back. She smirked, she knew this kid.

“I remember you.” Jules said lightly. “In the sixth grade you tried to pull up Lydia’s skirt. I broke your nose and I’m pretty sure she had you ostracized. Wanna see if we can do it again?” She asked him calmly, inching closer to him. Scott tapped her shoulder and Jules turned around. Unfortunately missing his reaction.

“Is it guardians or philosophers?” Scott asked her quietly. She noticed Ethan had made an appearance.

“How am I suposs-" She remembered Stiles reminding his father that Tara helped him with his math homework. “Philosophers.” She looked up at Scott. “The next is probably gonna be taken from here, soon.” She warned.

He and Ethan nodded and they backed out of the crowd, she followed them.

“What do we do?” She asked Scott, ignoring Ethan completely.

“We don’t leave.” Scott said. “We can’t.”

Jules thought of her parents, her father had told her at breakfast that they wanted her to be home that evening, before it got dark. That they had something important to talk about as a family. She sighed. “Right. We don’t leave.”

* * *

 

After the crowd dispersed around the classroom and school came to an end Jules wasn’t entirely sure what was going on. She had spent an hour and a half in her law class wondering what kind of false emergency it would take to be excused. Isaac, Allison and her father found a dead Mr. Westover and Stiles was at the hospital with Cora. They’d been right, she wasn’t okay. Now she was standing outside the school wondering what she was supposed to do next. Knowing that soon enough her parents would be wondering where she was.

“It’s philosophers, as in teachers.” Scott said to Stiles over the phone. “Allison and her father just found Mr. Westover.”

Jules couldn’t hear what Stiles was saying to Scott.

“Yeah, Jules figured it out. The last one is gonna be taken from the school. She thinks a teacher is the Darach.” Scott explained to Stiles. Jules paced and hoped that Stiles agreed with her.

“Could you put him on speaker?” She asked Scott. He nodded.

“Yeah but there’s dozens of them, Scott and they’re all headed home.” Stiles said.

Jules and Scott turned around to the face the school entrance.

“They’re all going to the recital.” Scott said into the phone.

She heard Stiles click off and Jules tied her hair back up. She kicked the ground.

“What?” Scott asked her. “What’s wrong?”

Jules balled her hands into fists. “Suspect list! We can’t keep track of every teacher! And I’ve been trying to think of someone who could fit the profile of a serial killer but I’m not experienced or smart enough to do that! We just need a few people to watch and-” Her heart was pounding and her throat felt tight. She looked up at Scott. “What do we do?”

Scott looked helplessly from her to the school. She couldn’t imagine the kind of weight on his shoulders. “Stiles is on his way. Things didn’t go well with his dad.”

“Yeah, I figured.” She sighed.

Her phone rang, it was her mother. “Scott go inside. I’ll meet you.” He looked concerned.

“What is it?”

Jules bit her lip. “Hurricane Charlotte. Just go, I’ll be fine.”

Reluctantly Scott left her outside in the building storm. She pulled her phone from her pocket.

_Here we go._

“Hello?”

“Juliet you were supposed to be home an hour ago! I have given you tons of slack with this but there’s a storm coming and it’s getting darker sooner! Come home now!” She demanded.

Jules felt nauseous. “I’m staying for the recital.” She said as calmly as she could.

“No, you are not!” Charlotte screeched.

“Mom it’s-” Jules tried to explain.

“Don’t try to tell me this is for Lydia or Allison, Jules! I don’t know what you’re up to and I want you home now!” Charlotte was furious. Jules wondered where her father was and if he could hear her screaming at their daughter. But Jules was quickly reaching a level of fury parallel to her mother’s.

“Listen.” She said darkly. “What I am 'up to' is showing support for the families of a bunch of dead teenagers. Frankly you and dad should be here, considering for a while you were just like these parents.” She snapped and hung up the phone. Jules then shut it off. Her heart and mind raced. She wanted to be sick. Her head spun.

_I’ve done it now. I’m screwed. If dads not home then I need to go to the fire station before I go home tonight.If I go home tonight at all._

* * *

 

Jules stood out in the storm a few minutes longer. Trying to collect herself. It wasn't working. She spotted Stiles’s jeep whipping into the parking lot to a screeching stop. He got out and spotted her. Jules could see him coming towards her, his face full of questions. Jules knew she had to go inside to Scott and Lydia. But she couldn't go in if she was a wreck and she was a wreck. Her shoulder throbbed with pain as she rubbed her face. She felt cold and hot all over.

_I have to get inside. I have to do something._

She barely noticed as Stiles came up beside her.

“Jules? Jules are you okay?” He asked urgently. His hands were on her shoulders. She noticed that his hand was a lot lighter on her left. The arm Cora had wrenched.

_Aren’t there more important things you could ask?_

She stared up at him, he looked guileless and sad. “Are you okay?” She asked him weakly. His hands were rubbing her shoulders and upper arms. Enlightening Jules to the fact that she was shivering with the cold. The wind of the storm whipped around them and she wasn’t sure if he’d heard her. The sky above them cackled with electricity.

“Yeah.” She could barely hear him he spoke so softly. “I’m fine.”

Jules let out a short and feeble laugh. She shoved her phone back into her pocket. “Me to.”

The two of them shared a sad look. They were both lying to each other. And they both knew it.

“Jules you have to go inside." He was speaking loudly over the howl of the wind.

“What about you?” She asked him in a small voice.

“I’m gonna keep trying my dad. I might go back to the hospital.” He said distractedly, like he didn’t know what else he should do.

“Then why come?” She furrowed her brow. “Why show up?”

“I wasn’t sure if you were gonna be here.” He told her.

“What does that matter?” She asked incredulously. “And why show up? You could have called.”

A strange look passed over his face. “Your phone was off.” He stepped away from her and back towards his car, his hands trailing down her arms as he went. “You notice the same stuff I do.”

He walked away, she stared after him.

_I don’t understand you._

“If something happens…” He trailed off as he climbed into the jeep. She knew what to do. She knew the drill.

_Call you before the police._

As he started the jeep she turned around and sprinted towards the school.

_Did he come here for me?_

She shook the thought from her head.

_He came here to do what I can in case I wasn’t around. He can’t be sure if he can rely on me yet._

* * *

 

Jules had to slip inside the auditorium, the show had already started. She spotted Scott and Lydia. She frowned, Lydia had told her after Westover disappeared and said she was going home. Jules looked away from her friend and scanned the room. It was tough to pick out teachers from the other adults as she was still new to the school. She noticed that Miss Blake was missing.

_That makes sense, this is her recital. She’s probably back stage._

She shivered.

_Unless that’s what she wants… “I didn’t know you had so many talents”… she’s new, she’s a teacher with access she… she has a good alibi for Deaton’s sacrifice. Kidnapped by alphas._

Jules continued to look for anyone who seemed out of place; behaving like they shouldn’t or not paying enough attention. Movement at the back caught her eye as she saw the Argents and Isaac come in and she noticed Lydia was gone. Jules didn’t think it was worth it to turn her phone back on to text her, Lydia couldn’t have gone far. Jules weaved through some people standing at the side and ducked out of the side door, unnoticed by everyone.

* * *

 

The school was dark and haunting; the depressing classical music did not help. Jules crept down the hallways. Her shadow casted a twisted version of herself across the walls. Fear dripped coldy down her spine. “Lydia?”

_Where would she go? Maybe to meet Stiles or…_

She heart leapt into her throat.

_Aiden._

Jules had seen one of the twins in the crowd but couldn’t tell which one it was. She walked with new determination in search of her friend.

* * *

 

Stiles hadn’t been able to get in touch with his dad again so turned around and went back to the school. He met Scott in the auditorium. He scanned the room and nudged his friend.

“Where’s Lydia and Jules?” He asked him.

Scott turned around, “Lydia…” He trailed off. Lydia was gone.

“They're together?” He offered hopefully. Stiles gave him a look that said plain as day 'Are you kidding me?'

“Text them.” Scott said and he pulled out his phone. He shot both girls a text. Both messages went unnoticed. Stiles did the same, with the same results. Stiles’s anxiety, if possible, worsened.

“Stiles, they’re fine.” Scott assured. But his voice wavered. Stiles didn’t need super senses to know that Scott was having trouble believing his own words.

“If something happens to either of them…” Stiles trailed off. He wasn’t sure what he would do, but he would do something.

* * *

 

Jules heard a door shut across the courtyard. “Lydia.” She muttered and walked towards the sound.

“I cannot believe that you went wandering off while people are dying.” She mumbled to herself. Jules flung the door open. “Lydia!” She shouted, with no response. “Lydia Martin and Aiden who cares! This is a terrible time for your shenanigans.” Anxiety crept through her body as she stepped into the hallway. Her heart pounded and everything around her was cold. An open classroom door beckoned to her.

_Lydia is a genius. What if that counts…?_

Jules ran towards it but she didn’t make it. Something hit the back of her head and collapsed on to the ground.

_No, no, no, not this again, never again!_

Jules struggled to roll over but pain shot through her entire body. She pushed herself upright.

“You just don’t stop do you?” A familiar voice mused. A pair of heels appeared in Jules’s line of sight and there was a hand on the back of her neck. “You’d both be better off if looks were all you had.”

_Blake._

Another jolt of pain shot through Jules and the world caved in.

* * *

 

Stiles and Scott were now convinced something had happened to them. They raced outside, calling the girl’s names.

“Lydia! Jules!” They each called but they were met with no response.

“We have to search the school, the field, the-” Stiles started to pace.

“Stiles!” Scott shouted. “Where would they go? They left voluntarily. They had to have.” He asked him as he scanned the parking lot and outside of the school.

“I don’t know! The twins were in the auditorium so Lydia didn’t go to Aiden!” Stiles shouted.

“Scott?” He asked him. “Scott, what do we do?”

* * *

 

Jules awoke bound and gagged on the ground. Her eyes watered and everywhere hurt. Her head pounded. She’d been through this before.

_Not again. Never again._

She struggled against the ropes that were cutting into her wrists, ankles and just below her knees. Her shoulder was wrenched behind her back and every movement sent jolts of pain through her arm. She screamed in anger and frustration and fear but it was muffled by the gag. Lydia was still unconscious, Blake stood disinterestedly behind her.

“Juliet.” She mused. “When I read your name on the attendance I knew I’d like you.”

_A rose by any other name bitch. I'd be a great Tessa._

Blake watched Jules struggle and jerk against the ropes that bound her.

 “You’ve been there before haven’t you? Bound like this.” Blake said in a soothing voice. Jules pushed herself into a sitting position and leaned against a desk. Blake moved some of Lydia’s hair away from her neck. “Powerless to stop what’s about to happen.” Blake smirked. “I know you Jules. I had a similar name once. My mother always told me she debated naming me Juliet but she decided that she would never, never, give her daughter the name of such a tragic heroine.” Blake stepped towards Jules and crouched in front of her. “Tragic, yes, but still a heroine. She was a rebel, wouldn’t listen to her parents, especially her mother.” Jules stared furiously at Blake, hoping that looks could just this once kill. “She lies and deceives them.” Blake hissed and stood back up, she paced methodically. Jules didn't want to listen but she couldn't help it. “What always fascinated me is that she had no interest in love, none at all. Most girls at least fantasize about it until they meet someone who makes it real. But not Juliet… not until she meets Romeo.” Blake smirked, “Tell me Juliet, have you found your Romeo?”

Jules kicked out at her with her bound feet, Blake stepped away easily. “She grows up quickly, forced to grow up at thirteen. Do you have any idea what that’s like?” She asked mockingly.

Hot tears burned in Jules’s eyes.

_Is it you? Is it you that’s tormenting me?_

Jules wanted to scream at her, to ask the questions. She hadn't considered the Darach before, but the Darach was an obsessive.

_Did I become a secondary object for you?_

“Juliet knew that she and Romeo would be doomed, she knew that she was rushing into something without thinking but she did it anyway. I admired that.” Blake went on; she looked at Jules with only mild interest. But Jules understood that Blake knew that everything she said, all the comparisons she drew rang true. “I know what you’re thinking. This is it. She’s the one who must have put the drugs in my locker. She's the one leaving the notes and the breadcrumbs. I know who, but you'll be dead so soon it doesn’t matter.” In a flash of movement Blake yanked Jules to her feet and put her hand around her throat. “Don’t flatter yourself Miss Capulet; I have more important things to do then mess with you.” Blake dropped Jules back onto the ground and picked up a dagger from her desk.

Fear electrified Jules like the lightening outside.

_I will die kicking and screaming, not bound and gagged. Not like this._

“If all else fail, myself have power to die.” Blake quoted the play. Jules was shaking and continued to trash around in her ties. “You don’t though. You have no power, no control, no choice.” Blake was smiling. Jules was revolted. “I’d kill you first but I want you to watch another person you love die. Just like Sara-” Jules froze. “Yes I know about Sara, knowledge is power, but it works the opposite as well. You’ll bathe in Lydia’s blood to.” Blake told her.

_People only reveal their true colors when it’s too late._

Lydia began to stir and Jules forced herself back up against the desk, a plan took shape in her mind. She blinked tears from her eyes and took long breaths through her nose.

_Now is not the time to panic. Now is the time to act._

She hoped Scott would have noticed she and Lydia were gone. But even if he did Jules knew she couldn’t rely on him arriving in time, or even being able to take Blake in a fight. Jules didn’t even think about how Blake could have done all that she did. That would have to come later. Blake prepared her garrotte. Lydia’s eyes were opening. Jules felt around on the desk for a screw and began to twist it.

“What are you doing?” Lydia’s voice was feeble. Jules twisted faster, unsure of whom Lydia was asking.

“What’s necessary.” Blake said calmly.

Jules scoffed and Lydia's eyes fell on her. Jules realized now that she could feel blood on her forehead and on the back of her neck. That she must look like hell. They both did.

_Oh well. I hope I’m not concussed._

The felt the screw sticking out just enough. She slid the binds of her hands between the head of the screw and the leg of the desk. She moved her hands back and forth. Glad that Blake’s attention was no longer on her, but she knew she was running out of time.

_Hopefully she’ll explain her evil plan first or something. Sounds like she likes to talk._

“I’m still surprised none of you seem to get that.” Blake said in disbelief.

_Lydia could you like scream or something. Come on._

She rubbed the ropes on the desk.

_Tom Cruise would be done by now, what the hell._

“You call them sacrifices, but you’re not understanding the word. It’s derived from the Latin sacrificium, an offering to a deity, a sacred rite.” She drawled on.

_Screw you, sacred my ass._

“A necessary evil.” She explained.

_The only necessary evil right now is murdering you._

“Stop.” Lydia said weakly. Jules gave her a nod of encouragement and tried to look less pained. Moving sent pain wracking down her spine.

“Oh, I wish I could.” She said in a breathy voice. “But you don’t know the alphas like I do.” Blake stood up.

“Please stop.” Lydia said again, her voice was just as small.

_Come on Lydia, scream!_

She rubbed the ropes. Worried that maybe her efforts were futile. Her chest was tight.

_We’re both gonna die tonight._

Blake ignored Lydia’s request. “But you Lydia, you’re not a sacrifice. Neither is she.” Her eyes flicked to Jules. “You’re just girls who know too much. Actually, girls who knew too much.” Blake brought the garrote around Lydia’s neck. The rope on Jules’s hands snapped and she didn’t waste time in unbinding her ankles or knees. Jules pushed herself to her feet with all her strength and leapt at Blake, catching her around the waist and bringing her to the ground. Lydia gasped and Blake seized Jules by the neck and lifted her as she stood up.

“You’re pathetic.” Blake commented. “You can’t save her but you can’t save yourself this time either. You won’t survive.” She spat and shoved Jules against the wall. Jules bit down on the gag to keep from making any sound of pain.

“Jules.” There was more strength to Lydia’s voice now. But it was too late. Jules tried to knee Blake in the chest but Bake tossed her like a ragdoll across the floor, she rolled across the room and hit the opposite wall. She let out a muffled scream of frustration and agony as Blake went back over to Lydia and placed the cord back around her neck. Lydia gasped and grabbed the cord.

_Do it._

“Lydia!” Blake roared. “Don’t!”

Lydia screamed.

It was the loudest thing Jules had ever heard and it even surprised Blake. Jules ripped the gag from around her head and sucked in an uninhibited breath of air. She then with shaking fingers removed the binds from her legs. Jules then very stupidly, did exactly what she did before and threw herself at Blake. Only this time she grabbed a textbook off the desk and took it with her. Her action produced the same result.

_Repeating that was the actual definition of insanity. Why am I like this?_

Jules thought as she was once again tossed into the wall, she let out a real scream this time. It was satisfying to hear her own enraged voice but Blake was ignoring her. Jules could taste blood and she could feel it dripping from her nose.

_This is so bad. Everything is bad. I should start carrying around my dad’s gun._

“Unbelievable.” Blake was in awe of Lydia. “You have no idea what you are, do you? The wailing woman.”

“If you keep talking I-I’m gonna st-start wailing.” Jules choked out. The wind had been knocked from her after the second hit against the wall. Her comment did nothing for Blake.

“A banshee right before my very eyes.” Blake said wondrously. Lydia gasped. “You’re just like me Lydia. Both of you are.” Her eyes flicked to the Jules, who was struggling to get up. “Look like the innocent flower, but be the serpent under it.”

_It’s decided. Shakespeare sucks._

“Fuck the Scottish play!” Jules chocked out.

Lydia was crying, understandably. Jules needed to get to her, she needed to do something, and she needed to save her friend. Just once, she needed to save someone she loved.

“It’s too bad though…” Blake looked from Jules to Lydia. “And too late.”

Blake taped Lydia into the chair, Lydia cried for her to stop. And Jules forced herself to stand. Blake rolled her eyes. “Could you stop?” She asked in an irritated voice.

“No.” Jules said flatly and took a step, only to an invisible force to pull her to the ground. She looked to see that Blake had her hands raised.

“If I had realized you’d be this annoying I would have killed you first.” Blake said sourly.

“You still could.” Jules pointed out in a strangled voice.

_If it gives Lydia time you can torture me however you like._

Blake glared at Jules as she tightened the garrotte and raised her dagger.

“No!” Jules growled, but she couldn’t move. She could only watch in horror and fear as blood welled in her mouth.

_Not again. Never again._

“One last philosopher.” Blake whispered.

_The recital. She doesn’t have to kill them herself… I should have said something about this bitch._

“You knew, Juliet.” Blake said to her. “But your knowledge of humanity blinded you to the truth.” Blake shut her eyes. “You were right about one thing though, I can orchestrate all that I want.”

Jules let out another feral scream.

“Drop it!” A voice came from behind her. She whipped her head around, sending pain all through her nerves. The back door of the classroom was open, and there stood the Sheriff.

Blake flung her knife and it settled in the right side of his chest.

_She didn’t want to kill._

Jules wanted to shout that, for no reason other than that it might be important but somebody growled. She raised her eyes to the door and struggled against the magic holding her to the floor. It was Scott. And for a second Jules believed things might be okay. He ran at Blake and attacked her. Jules's belief was short lived because a moment later Blake sent Scott flying. Jules heard a noise outside and had a good guess as to who that might be.

“Stiles run!” She choked out. Blood and bile rose in her mouth.

Stiles did not run and Blake shoved the table against the door. She turned to see him struggling to get in.

_Guardians. Cops._

Whatever held Jules to the ground seemed to let up as Blake became preoccupied with Stiles's dad. Jules pushed herself to her knees and crawled for Blake.

_I make bad choices. This much is clear. Is this noble? Seems noble._

Stiles was screaming her name and Lydia was shaking her head for Jules to stop. But Jules would not. Jules had decided a long time ago to survive, though if her chances looked like shit already she might as well fight to her last breath. But Jules didn’t get a chance to lunge at Blake. The woman shoved Jules onto her back with her foot and kicked her hard in the ribs. Jules thought the lack of a crack was a good sign but it was still agonizing. She let out another scream of pain.

_Why do I do this? I have become the very thing I despise. This is what I did before and it’s what a told Cora not to do now. And she’s in the hospital isn’t she? Whatever… I’ve been worse… probably._

Her thoughts rushed as stars danced in her eyes and the Sherriff began talking. She winced as a loud bang echoed around the room.

_At least someone shot her._

The desk was moving.

_Come join the party._

Stiles forced his way into the room as Scott got to his feet. Jules sat up and leaned back on her elbows. Her heart sank. The Sheriff was gone.


	14. The Overlooked

** Chapter Fourteen – The Overlooked **

* * *

 

Jules let the reality of the past hour sink in as Stiles and Scott stared at the broken window. She tried to hold back tears. She was never supposed to be tied up or beaten or watch somebody she loved die. Save for the last part, it had all just happened again. Jules felt pain wrack her body and mind. Lydia had almost been killed, someone else was dead and Stiles’s dad had been taken. Jules was numb as Scott and Stiles ran over to her and Lydia; the world seemed to move in slow motion. She remembered the last time she’d felt like that. She remembered the door being kicked down and the barrel of a gun in her face and being forced to the ground. Jules was vaguely aware of Stiles asking her and Lydia repeatedly if they were okay. And the feeling of his hand on the back of her neck and Scott was holding her arm. For a moment her pain dulled. The three of them were all speaking at once, Lydia was crouching next to her, they all were. Jules found that she was having a rather difficult time choosing words that should come out of her mouth. She stared at Lydia, her bright blue eyes flicked to the mark on the other girl’s neck. Jules swallowed down a hate filled scream. She grabbed Lydia and despite all pain wrapped her arms around her best friend and clutched the back of her jacket. Jules rested her head on Lydia’s shoulder and wondered why they had all fallen silent. Lydia was rubbing Jules's back and shoulder.

“What the hell were you thinking?” She asked her and pulled away so she could look Jules in the eyes. Jules knew that Lydia might expect her to look away. Jules did not. She stared unblinking at her friend.

“I was thinking that if I love someone I will do anything I can to protect them. Even if it’s stupid.” Her voice was deadly serious. Lydia was shaking.

Stiles put his hand on her arm. “Incredibly stupid!” His voice was half a shout and ruined the moment. Lydia’s eyes flicked to him and then back to Jules.

“I agree.” She looked furious. “And wrong answer Jules! The right answer is ‘sorry Lydia I was not thinking’ because clearly, you were not thinking!” She shouted.

Jules let out a hollow and short laugh. “I was also thinking if I’m going to die, which I was almost certain of I might add. I am going to die a badass.” She glanced at the boys. “A stupid badass.” She grabbed the edge of the desk. “But a badass nonetheless.” She quipped. And then with a very painful yank, Jules used the desk to push herself to her feet.

_Everything hurts._

Stiles’s mouth was opening and closing like a fish, he looked just as furious as Lydia. He looked at both of them. “Hospital. Both of you. Now.” He told them and then looked to Stiles. “We’ve got to get to Derek.”

Scott nodded and looked to both of the girls. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked Lydia. Lydia nodded. Jules stared at Stiles.

“I can’t go to the hospital. If I go to the hospital I’m dead. My mother would tell me that I had this coming! I can’t go!" She growled "I can handle it!” Her voice rose to a tremoring shout and she shook her head ‘no’ as she spoke.

Lydia looked like she'd just been hit in the stomach with a baseball bat, Stiles looked furious and Scott looked confused but he quickly let it go.

“Can you walk?” He asked her. Jules nodded and stood up straight. “Can you run?” She nodded again and brought up the hem of her t-shirt to wipe the blood off of her face. She became very aware that she’d accidently just flashed her bra at everyone but didn’t have the mental energy required to be mortified. And it didn’t seem like anyone had noticed, Stiles was gaping at Scott.

“Wait, Scott you can’t be serious.” Stiles said to him. “She…” He trailed off and looked helplessly at Lydia, Lydia and Jules were having something of a staring contest.

“I’m going to find Allison.” Lydia said. “Get to Derek.” She ordered. “Before she does.”

By ‘she’ Lydia meant Blake. Jules leaned over and spat blood out of her mouth. “Sorry. Had to be done.” She muttered.

Stiles cast another worried glance at Lydia before grabbing Jules’s hand. “Come on badass.” He muttered bitterly and they followed Scott out of the room. Leaving Lydia behind.

* * *

 

Stiles cast nervous glances at Jules about every three seconds. He had already asked her every concussion diagnosis question he could think of. Now that much of the blood was off of her face she almost looked fine. But he could tell she was in pain, and unlike Scott he couldn’t do anything for her.

“I’m alright you know.” She said feebly. “Honestly,” She huffed. "I’ve had worse.”

Stiles sped through the storm behind Scott’s bike. Rain beat down on the car.

“I know you think that is reassuring somehow. It's not.” He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. He wanted to focus on her. He didn’t want to think about anything else, because if he did he knew where his mind would go. His dad's bent Sheriff’s badge was heavy in his pocket. “I have some Advil in my gym bag, its right behind you, would you just-”

“No.” She said flatly and cut him off. “I don’t do painkillers.” She said in a small voice. He wondered how she could deny them when she was clearly in pain, especially if she continued to forge on through the night. He also wondered when she'd decided that. because he remembered her offering some to Scott before the motel. Before any of this happened,before she was involved.

“Jules come on, you should-” He pressed, if there was anything he could do it was nag.

“Stiles!” She snapped. “Stop it! I don’t want any Advil!” She sounded exasperated.

Stiles pondered what her great opposition to some pain killers might be but he dropped it. “I have to do something for you Jules. I’m not Scott; I can’t take your pain away!” He said to her, Stiles sounded pained. There was a lot he couldn't do. He couldn't find his dad. He couldn't stop Lydia or Jules from getting hurt. He couldn't save Cora.

_I wish I could._

The streets in town were empty. People were staying inside, out of the storm.

“Stiles, I’m not asking you to.” She said flatly.

Stiles scoffed. “Yeah? Well you can’t just say ‘I can handle it’ and expect us to let you deal with it alone.” His voice was tight; he glanced at the blood on her shirt and then back up to her face. He was expecting her to look angry, she didn’t. She just looked exhausted.

“Stiles, we’ll find your dad.” She said in a strong but quiet voice.

His eyes were set on the road ahead; he clutched the steering wheel and didn’t say anything in response.  He didn’t want to tell her he didn’t believe her. He didn't want to tell her that he wasn't as strong as she was. That he didn't understand how she was sitting next to him, ready to take on anything.

“Stiles no one thought I’d ever come home.” Jules said, there was a bitter edge to her voice. Stiles knew she was right; it had been an unspoken decision to think of Juliet Hayes as dead. Now he couldn't imagine why, surely her family must have believed that she was strong enough to survive. Or had they not wanted to think of what their daughter might be living for? “We have the who, the what, the when, possible where and most of the why.” She sounded determined, hopeful even. Jules reached her hand out of put it on his upper arm. “We have everything we need.” Her voice was soft, so was her touch.

Stiles glanced at her, his eyes shone. “Except time.”

* * *

 

Stiles had been unusually quiet while Scott and Jules tried to explain what had happened to Derek. She wanted to do more for him. She wanted to find Blake and find some way to drag the truth from her the way she’d tossed Jules to the ground. Easily, without hesitation. Jules was surprised Derek had believed them, but Scott was easy to trust and both he and Jules looked worse for wear.

_And it would be tough to ignore Stiles._

Stiles, who was on the verge of tears.

At the end of what was a short but grueling explanation Stiles had pulled her aside while Scott and Derek continued to talk. Her hand had been in his the entire time. She was hyper aware of it, how small her own fingers were compared to his, how even still he was between her and the werewolves. As if there was still some way he could shield her from the truth of it all. Pretend for a little longer that she didn’t know. Jules was trying so hard to do what she could for him, but she couldn’t think of anything.

Jules watched in confusion as Stiles unbuttoned and pulled off the flannel he wore over his t-shirt and handed it to her. “You’re covered in blood.” He said numbly.

Jules didn’t know if or how she could say no. She could feel her own blood sticking to her back, collar bone and stomach as it dried into the fabric of her shirt. Serving as a dark reminder of her own foolish actions.  Reluctantly, Jules took the shirt from him with a nod of thanks and ducked into one of the lofts many corners to change.

“So now what?” She asked somberly as she rolled up the too long sleeves and stood back next to Stiles. Derek tossed a small wet towel at her.

_I’m still covered in blood aren’t I? Yeah…_

“We wait.” He told them.

* * *

 

Jules didn't realize how badly anger would burn her the next time she saw Blake. She could barely think as the woman tried to defend herself.

 “Ask her why she almost killed Lydia and Jules.” Scott said to Derek. Jules stood next to Stiles, all of her rage and hate overpowered any fear she might have.

_There are more important things then being afraid._

“Lydia Martin? I don’t know anything about that!” Blake defended herself. “And Juliet is right there!” She gestured to her. But it looked like Derek had had enough.

“What do you know?” he asked shortly.

“I know that these kids, for whatever misguided reason, are filling your head with an absurd story.” She turned to them. “And one they can’t prove by the way!”

Scott pulled a bottle form his pocket and shook it. “What if we can?” He asked her.

“What is that?” Blake asked him.

“My boss told me it’s a poison and a cure…” Scott stepped forward, Jules stayed at Stiles’s side. Wanting to reach out to him, but not in front of Blake.

_“Tell me Juliet, have you found your Romeo?”_

She shuddered and refocused on Scott.

“Which means you can use it” He unscrewed the cap. “And it can be used against you.” He explained calmly.

“Mistletoe.” She sounded enraged.

Scott released the contents of the jar; the powder flew the air and encircled Blake. And for a second Jules saw what she really was. A monster. A slashed and horrifying monstrosity.  Unwittingly she grabbed Stiles and pulled them both back. He looked at her in shock. Her heart pounded. Jules’s eyes flicked to Derek, he looked like he might not have really believed them until then. Her heart broke for him. Jules knew the stories; he’d already lost so much.

Blake ran for the door but Derek caught her around the throat and lifted her into the air. “Derek, wait, wait.” She pleaded as his fingernails shifted into claws.

“You need me!” She shouted.

_She’s right._

Jules glanced at Scott.

“What are you?” Derek asked her to admit it.

“The only person who can save your sister.” She choked out. “Call Peter. Call him!” She pleaded.

Jules grabbed Stiles’s hand as Derek pulled out his phone and continued to dangle Blake in the air. Part of her wished they could just rip her throat out and be done. But she knew that there was more at stake than that. They all did. She squeezed Stiles’s hand.

Derek’s fingers tightened around Blake’s neck. Jules cringed, she knew what that felt like. It wasn’t fun.

“Derek.” Scott said. “Derek what are you doing?” he asked urgently.

“Her life – it’s in my hands!” Blake gasped.

Derek raised her higher into the air. “Derek.” Jules warned.

“Stop, Derek, stop.” Stiles walked towards them, bringing Jules with him. His voice was breaking.

“Stilinski, you’ll never find him.” Blake told him.

Jules was outraged, Stiles had lost one parent, he shouldn’t have to lose both of them. He shouldn’t have to know what that felt like. A fierce wave of protectiveness joined the rage in her blood.

“Derek.” Scott said again. “Derek!” He spoke harshly, with authority. Like he was the alpha instead.

Derek dropped Blake on the ground, she fell to her knees. Thunder cracked outside.

“That’s right. You need me. All of you.” She said proudly as she looked to the four of them. Jules let go of Stiles’s hand and walked up to her, she kicked Blake onto her back. Jules then crouched down next to her. Feeling a lot more confident with the others around.

“And why do I need you?” She asked Blake in the same mocking tone Blake had used on Jules and Lydia earlier.

The older woman got to her feet and smirked at Jules, who stared defiantly up at her.

“Because I know who you’re afraid of, and I know how to stop them.”

* * *

 

 “I don’t know, something feels wrong about this.” Stiles said quietly. “You know, we proved it to Derek, but she still had this look like it didn’t matter. You know, like it was a still going according to plan.” He said, he didn’t sound nervous or distressed or upset in any way. Just steady, like Stiles. Urgent and calm all at once. He turned to Scott and then glanced in the mirror back at Jules. “You saw it didn’t you?”

“I think it still is.” Jules said in a low voice. “Going to plan, I mean. I don’t think it matters to her that Lydia is still alive or that Derek knows. Organized serial killer.” She glanced at Scott. “Even her mistakes might not matter.” Jules huffed.

Scott looked at both of them like they were far away, he was deep in thought. Jules sighed and rubbed her face. She felt her phone in her pocket.

_Oh god. Oh no._

Jules decided to leave it off. She looked back up and noticed Stiles’s eyes were flicking to her again, she quirked an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“What was that bit about her knowing who you’re afraid of?” Stiles blurted out.

Jules froze, “Uh…”

“Is it your parents?” He asked, he sounded somewhere between worried and livid. Jules was shocked.

“No! It’s not my parents! It’s… well frankly I have no idea.” She said petulantly. Scott turned around, eyebrows raised; she shot both boys a scowl. “It’s a problem for another time, that’s what it is.” She muttered.

“You’re afraid of someone but you don’t know who but Blake knows who?” Stiles confirmed that was the situation, he spoke like his words were just falling out of his mouth, he wasn’t thinking, just talking.

“Priorities!” Jules shouted at him.

“We are driving to our priorities!” Stiles rebutted. “We have time to talk about this so who-”

Jules poked her head up between the front seats. “Stiles this is not for you to know!” She snapped at him and glared at Scott, who promptly turned back around. She leaned back into her seats and rubbed her eyes.

_I should have left that bitch alone._

Her eyes flicked one last time to Stiles; he looked hurt, by her. Jules felt a sharp pang of guilt and looked away from him. She couldn’t have him know. Because if he knew about one thing he would have to know about all the others. Jules didn’t want that. She wanted to pretend he thought she was normal, at least for little while longer. She didn’t want to burden her pain on everyone else, not when they had enough of their own.

* * *

 

Upon arrival Stiles reached into the back and grabbed a bat off the floor.

The three of them headed for the entrance to the hospital.

“What’s that?” Scott asked him, likely he couldn’t believe Stiles was walking into supernatural mayhem with a baseball bat.

“Well you got claws I got a bat.” He jerked his thumb at Jules. “She’s got pain tolerance.”

Jules snorted but it didn't sound like Stiles had meant to be funny. Stiles stopped her just before they got inside, and the rain came down on them in sheets. “What?” She asked him as Scott, Derek and Blake went inside.

“Two things. One, do not, under any circumstances, do what you did at the school!” He shouted. His eyes were focused on hers she nodded numbly and took in his expression. He looked sick with worry. She wanted to make everything okay, make sure that he’d be alright. “And two” He held up two fingers “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t push but-”

_Seriously? Are you doing this now?_

“Stiles I don’t need my past to be what you see when you look at me.” She cut him off in a weak voice.

“Jules when I-” He started but he didn’t get to finish. Scott interrupted.

“Guys!” He called them.

_What? When you what?_

She thought as Stiles grabbed her hand and pulled her inside.  Jules was furious with herself, lives were on the line, they were running around with a serial killer and she was so badly to know how Stiles was going to finish that sentence.

_Ridiculous._

* * *

 

Stiles could not believe himself. Talk about poor timing for Jules to say that to him. He had a three second apology planned out in his head.

_“Stiles I don’t need my past to be what you see when you look at me.”_

He wanted badly to tell her that it wasn’t, but it didn’t look like he’d be getting a chance any time soon.

“Scott! Scott!” Melissa called from behind them. They all turned around, Jules looked puzzled for a moment. “What are you doing here?” Melissa asked him. Her eyes flicked to Jules and Blake, people she didn’t know. “The hospital’s evacuating.” She explained.

“We’re here for Cora.” He said urgently.

“What?” She looked at them. “All of you?” She furrowed her brow. “Why does Stiles have my bat?”

Scott told his mother to trust him and that she needed to go. Stiles watched, puzzled as Jules darted away from them and then back again. Something was shining in her hand. He nudged her; she held it up and twirled it. She had grabbed a scalpel from a nearby cart. Stiles tightened his hand around his bat.

“The building is supposed to be clear in thirty minutes. We’ve got two ambulances that are coming back. One’s ten minutes out, the other’s twenty.” She told them. “Cora needs to be on one of those. They’ll be picking up in the basement garage.” Melissa explained and the five of them went off down the hallway, leaving Scott’s mother behind.

* * *

 

Jules stood in the corner next to Stiles, behind Blake. She clutched the tiny knife in her white-knuckled hand, entirely prepared to use it. She knew that feeling would eat away at her.

_I’m turning into one of them._

A monster. Not like Blake. Not like Aiden. She meant the kind of monster she knew. Jules shuddered. Once this was over, she’d need a serious nap. She might even finally take one of those pills.

“You don’t have to keep me on a leash, Derek. I’m going to help.” Blake said to him.

Jules rolled her eyes and glowered at Blake.

_I’d get over killing you._

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open, Jules followed the group warily. Waiting for something to happen. The lights flickered and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up.

_Empty hospitals spell imminent disaster. This is just fact._

She almost ran into Stiles when they stopped. Cora and Peter were gone from the room. Jules hoped that they’d gotten lucky and had been evacuated. But the trail of black blood told her otherwise. For a brief moment Jules felt like asking what the black ooze was but filed that question away for another time. Jules’s head snapped up as they heard growling. She raised her scalpel, well aware of how useless it would be against a werewolf. She jumped as Peter was tossed through the doors and appeared at their feet.

“Oh no.” She groaned.

“We got a problem.” He said to them. “Big problem.”

Jules raised her eyes to the end of the hallway. Her heart leapt into her throat.

_Voltron wolf. Because this day couldn’t get any worse._

The twins roared and for a moment everyone froze. And then Derek did something very stupid and very admirable, he ran at the twins. Scott followed him.

_So I’m not the only one._

Jules’s eyes fell on a body at the end of a hallway. “Cora!” She yelled. Stiles nodded and grabbed Peter, Jules chased after them. She stopped and turned around as Blake began backing away.

_“Do not, under any circumstances, do what you did at the school!” Sorry Stiles._

Jules ran at her and Blake turned around and headed for the elevator. Jules tackled the woman and rolled her onto her back. Jules’s heart pounded as she straddled Blake’s chest, pinning down the woman’s arms. She held the scalpel to her throat. She hesitated, thinking of Stiles.

_We need her._

Blake smirked and a force pushed Jules back and onto the ground. She kicked Blake square in the chest and then the thigh as the woman climbed on top of her. Jules slashed out with the knife and cut her across the face. Someone was screaming her name. Blake pinned Jules’s armed hand above her head and Jules punched Blake square in the neck. Blake choked but seized the scalpel from Jules and sliced her across the collar bone. Stiles screamed and Jules realized that it must have looked like her throat had just been cut. Blake laughed.

“Your Romeo.”

She scrambled off of Jules and back to the elevator. Jules got to her feet.

“Jules! Jules! Juliet Hayes I swear to god!” Stiles screamed.

Jules turned around and barreled to the side to avoid the oncoming twins. Her chest stung but she could tell Blake hadn’t cut very deep. She sprinted down the hallway to Stiles. He stood up and put his hands on her shoulders, gaping at her. He was holding her close enough to him that she could feel the heaviness of his breathing.

_I’m fine, I’m fine, stop liking at me like that, like…_

Like what? The last time she had seen that look was the first time she’d seen her family after three years. Open, guileless, utter relief.

“Is Cora okay?” She asked Peter and looked past Stiles.

“She’s alive.” Peter said solemnly. “We’ve gotta move.”

Jules raced after Peter and Stiles into an exam room. Scott and Derek were close behind, unfortunately so were the twins.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop.” Derek shouted.

Stiles stopped. “Stiles!” Derek called.

Jules ran for Stiles but Derek caught her around the waist and held her back. She repeatedly elbowed him to try and make him let her go as Stiles slammed the growling twins over the head with his bat. It did nothing but shatter the wood. Stiles backed away from the alphas and scrambled across the room to meet them. Derek let go of Jules. She hit Stiles on the shoulder.

“That was stupid!” She yelled at him lividly.

“Oh? That was stupid? You-” He didn’t get to finish, which seemed to be happening a lot, as the overhead light was forced into the twins face.

Jules would have laughed if she hadn’t been terrified. She and Stiles reached for each other’s hands as they darted out of the room. Bat-less, knife-less, defenseless humans.

* * *

 

As the power winked out and the backup lights came on the group of them settled into and exam room.

“Where’s big guy?” Peter asks as he lay Cora down. 

Jules hovered over her, her fingers on Cora’s neck. Stiles wondered what Jules thought taking Cora’s pulse would do; maybe it just made her feel like she was doing something. Blood seeped from the slash across her collarbone and Stiles had to look away. For a moment, not a long one, but a split second, Jules had been dead. And Stiles’s brain was fuzz until he realized that she wasn’t, she was on her feet and ready to chase the woman who had just held her life in her hands. Stiles remembered the moment right after his mother died. It had seemed so surreal that her heart was no longer beating, that there was nothing he could do. There hadn’t been grief or anger or anything, first it was emptiness for a few seconds and then unbearable pain. But this time the world had fallen silent until Jules had gotten back up again. The first thing he heard was himself screaming her name.

“He’s close.” Derek answered his uncle, snapping Stiles back into the moment.

“What about Miss Blake?” He asked Derek. Scott shook his head.

“What do you mean? What does that mean? Like, she’s gone?” Stiles shouted.

_She can’t be gone we need her._

“Scott are you kidding me!” He shouted at him, Derek shushed them. Jules rushed over to Stiles and put herself between him and Scott. Stiles stared at her.

“It’s me. It’s on me. That’s my fault.” She stuttered out. “I had her…” Jules trailed off. Scott grabbed her shoulder.

_Doe she actually think…_

“It’s not.” Scott said to her. Jules looked unconvinced.

“Be quiet.” Derek hissed at them. Stiles snapped.

“Me be quiet? Me huh?” Stiles went up to Derek. “Are you telling me what to do now? When your psychotic, mass murdering girlfriend – the second one you’ve dated, by the way, has got my dad somewhere tied up, waiting to be ritually sacrificed?” He whisper-shouted at him but his voice was rising as he got closer to Derek, Derek was glowering at him. Stiles didn’t care; he had to yell at somebody.

Jules and Scott were right next to him again, her hand around his.

“Stiles, they’re still out there.” Scott said to him.

“And-and they want her, right?” Stiles confirmed. “Which means now we don’t have her either, so my dad and Cora are both dead!” He shouted in Derek’s face. Jules yanked him away.

“They aren’t.” She said calmly and glanced at Scott.

“Not yet.” His best friend told him.

Stiles glanced back and forth between the two of them. His best friend and his… other friend. Both of them dealing with so much.

 _And they have the patience to deal with me_.

Scott, who must feel like he had the world on his shoulders and Jules who had just put her life on the line for him. Stiles watched as Scott walked over to Derek and Cora and Jules turned him around, he faced away from the others, just to her.

“Sties you need to keep it together. We need you.” Her voice was firm, authoritative. “Oka-” The door bursting open interrupted her and her face changed, she looked murderous. Right now there was only one person he could think of who could do that.

“You can’t.” They all turned around to see Blake looking at Scott. “Only I can. I can save her, and I can tell you where Sheriff Stilinski is.” Jules interlocked their fingers. “But there is a pack of alphas in this hospital who want me dead. So I’ll help you… but only when I’m out of here and safe.” She slid her eyes over them. “Only then.” She emphasized.

Derek shoved over a tray table and ran at her, Scott grabbed him.

“Derek wait!” He shouted.

Stiles and Jules stayed where there were. 

“She was trying to get out!” Derek pointed to her.

“I was trying to keep from getting killed; something Juliet over there didn’t exactly help with.” She snapped.

Jules smirked and looked proud of herself. Stiles was still furious she had tried to take on Blake alone. Again.

“If you want to show you’re one of the good guys, then heal her.” Stiles bargained with her.

“Not until I’m safe.” Blake said again.

“I’d like to volunteer a different method of persuasion.” Peter said darkly. “Let’s torture her.”

“Works for me.” Derek said and tried to get past Scott.

“All in favor of torture?” Jules asked the room with her hand raised. Stiles was tempted to lift his arm also, but he didn’t think there was anything they could really do to hurt Blake.

The P.A squeaked and Jules jumped. Melissa’s voice came over the speaker, speaking for Deucalion. Stiles could feel everyone sink but Jules looked as enraged as ever.

“He’s not gonna hurt her.” Blake broke the silence.

“Shut up.” Derek and Jules said simultaneously.

Stiles frowned.

_Weird._

He looked at Scott, searching his mind for something to say.

“He won’t!” Blake said again, her eyes fell on Scott. “Scott, you know why. Tell them it’s true.” The lights flickered and Stiles felt Jules’s pulse jump.

“What does she mean?” Derek asked Scott.

The room was otherwise silent.

Blake looked at Scott expectantly and then rolled her eyes. “You’re not the only one he wants in his pack.” She said to Derek.

Jules made a small noise, Stiles’s eyes flicked and then rested on her. She looked furious, that had been the default all day. But he there was more there, he could feel it in the beat and skips of her heart, how close she was standing to him, the occasional quiver of her lip. She was terrified. Stileswas too.

* * *

“Deucalion doesn’t just want an Alpha pack, he wants perfection.” Blake explained.

“He’s an obsessive.” Jules added. Blake nodded.

_But it’s Scott that’s his obsession, not Derek. And that makes a hell of a lot more sense._

“That means adding the rarest of alphas into his ranks.” Blake continued.

_Twins, Kali does weird stuff with her feet and Scott is what…?_

“A true alpha.” Peter completed her thought.

“What’s that?” Stiles asked them as they all looked at Scott.

“The kind that doesn’t have to steal his power from another. One that can rise by the force of his own will.” Peter went on, Scott avoided his eyes. “Our little Scott.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Scott said to them and turned back to Blake. “We still need to get her out of here.”

“Scott your mom-” Stiles started urgently and went over to his friend, inadvertently pulling Jules with him.

“My mom.” Scott cut him off. “Said there’s one more ambulance coming in twenty minutes and I don’t think we’ve been here that long. So if we can get down to the garage, get to the last ambulance, we can get out of here.” He said to them, it sounded simple enough.

_Some things are easier said._

“The twins aren’t gonna let us just walk out.” Peter reminded them.

_Thank you Peter. We’d all forgotten about them._

“I’ll distract them.” Scott said.

“You mean you’ll fight them.” Derek clarified.

“No.” Jules interjected. “You’ll die.”

She felt Stiles looking at her so she ignored him.

“Whatever I have to do.”

_Never good words to say._

* * *

 

“Thanks Peter for offering to be first up against the wall.” Jules muttered as she rummaged through the room. “Wouldn’t mind you dead anyway.”

“I heard that.” He said harshly form the other side of the room.

“What?” Stiles asked.

Jules shook her head and rolled her eyes. She yanked open a cupboard and was faced with painkillers.

_Don’t they keep this stuff under lock and key?_

She scanned the shelves searching for anything that could help. Her eyes fell on the one thing she never wanted to see again.

_Great. Wow. Fantastic. Life is just handing me a basket of mini muffins today, isn’t it?_

She froze and stared at the bottle. She could hear the others talking, Derek and Stiles in particular. Out of the corner of her eye she could see him putting an AED back in its place. Her heart pounded and she wanted just to slam the door

_I could just take it. Pocket it. There’s gonna be needles in here somewhere._

Her hand was on the bottle, she rotated it in her fingers. She felt sick with herself.

_Take it. No do not. Really though, why not? I deserve some stress relief, my entire life is absolutely absurd and it’s not going to get better. Yes this is true, but you know what won’t help at all? YOUR DRUG ADDICTION! PUT IT BA-_

“Can that help?” Derek’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

“He-help? Wha- who?” She stuttered and Derek stared blankly at her. She pushed the bottle back inside and slammed the cupboard shut. Stiles was watching her, a worried look on his face.

_That doesn’t mean anything. He’s not worried about me._

Jules for a second was tempted to scream that she wasn’t a drug addict but that seemed counterintuitive.

“Epinephrine?” Scott asked the room.

“Main ingredient is adrenaline.” Jules stated numbly.

“It’s only gonna make him stronger.” Derek elaborated.

Jules noticed Stiles staring back and forth between them with an odd look on his face. Peter froze.

“How strong?”

Jules stood back up, “That is the worst good idea I have ever heard in my life.” She said in a flat voice to Peter. “Do it.”


	15. The Overlooked II

** Chapter Fifteen – The Overlooked II **

* * *

 

Jules sprinted down the halls alongside Stiles; she didn’t remember when he had slipped his hand into hers again. Not that it mattered. She was only half focused on everything going on around her.

_I almost took it. I almost went looking for a needle. In the middle of a goddamn crisis._

She was disgusted with herself.

_Is that really what I was? Is that really how I survived?_

She stumbled down a flight of stairs, right on Stiles’s heels. She was jerked around a corner and down another dim corridor. They burst through a door. Stiles yelled something and they ran for the ambulance. He let go of her and she helped him open the door and then climbed in and seated herself across from him. She helped pull in Cora.

_God, she does not look good._

Jules wondered briefly if this was happening three years before if she would have prayed or done something of the like. She pushed the thought from her head.

_Jules three years ago died in New York._

Derek and Blake had gone around to the front of the ambulance, Jules’s head snapped up. Someone was calling a name. A name that sounded like hers. She shot Stiles a confused glance and then remembered.

_“I had a similar name once.” Julia. Why would Kali know that Jennifer Blake was really…?_

She nearly gasped. “Kali.”

Stiles nodded and gestured dramatically outside. “I know.” He mouthed and shut the doors.

“No, I mean-” She began in a whisper but stopped when she saw Blake and Derek run past their doors. “What.” She said flatly.

Stiles began to bounce his leg up and down. She sighed and continued. “Blake is Kali’s emissary, or was.”

Stiles furrowed his brow. “Ethan said they were all dead. Scott didn’t think that he was lying.” he looked like a nervous wreck. Jules guessed that she did to.

Jules nodded. “I know but he might not have known he was lying. They might all think that Kali killed her emissary.” Her voice quickened. “That might be wh-”

“Wait, how do you know this?” Stiles asked her. “I mean it makes sense but wh-”

“Earlier tonight she said to me ‘I had a similar name once’. I knew she meant a name similar to mine. Julia versus Juliet.” Jules explained rapidly and hoped Stiles wouldn’t ask more about what Blake had said to her. Stiles stared at her, his face full of questions.

_You knew what they say about hope._

“What? Did she say anything else important?” He pressed, his eyes searching her face for any indication that she might be about to lie to him.

_Important to you or to me?_

“No. She just talked about how what she was doing was necessary. Called Lydia a banshee.” She raised her eyebrows, Stiles shrugged anxiously. “She told us that we knew too much. I don’t see how.” She said in a breathy voice. “I’ve been pretty confused since like, August.” Jules admitted “And she made a lot of Shakespeare references.”

Stiles quirked an eyebrow. “Like what? Comparing you and Juliet?” He asked jokingly. Jules nodded, for a moment me looked pained. “How?”

Jules shrugged. “Stupid stuff from a stupid play. She called herself the serpent under the flower, you know, from Macbeth. She knew a lot about me though.” Her voice was low. “A lot.” She said in almost a whisper. She could tell that Stiles wanted to ask but decided against it. He leaned forward, with his elbows on his bouncing knees. Jules fidgeted her hands and they fell into silence.

* * *

 

As the power blinked out for good, Stiles checked to make sure that the doors were secure. Jules didn’t want to tell him that she didn’t think they’d hold against an alpha werewolf, so she kept it to herself.

“Okay, okay, okay.” He muttered. “We’re okay.” He reassured himself. He looked down to Cora. “You okay? How you doing?”

Jules studied Cora. Something was very wrong.

“Wh-why do you look like you’re not breathing?” he asked her.

_There it is._

Both Stiles and Jules leaned forward to listen, but Jules already knew. The rise and fall of her chest was gone. “Because she’s not breathing.” Jules said in a steady voice.

“Oh, no, oh god, oh no, no, no.” Stiles mumbled, his obvious panic grew.

Jules didn’t want him to get any worse. “Stiles, it’s fine.” She titled Cora’s head back. “She’s gonna be fine.” Jules went through the steps of CPR at the same time as Stiles. Jules let him breath air into her chest but then realized that was all he was going to do.

“Stiles.” She pushed him aside and got on top of the gurney, straddling Cora’s hips. “Compressions are part of this.”

_Just because I never loved any of the other girls doesn’t mean I didn’t try to save them._

Jules had almost forgotten the strength it took to actually do compressions properly. Although the whole thing was makeshift. Jules knew that she wasn’t supposed to sit on the victim. Her arms burned and pain shot through her body as she repeatedly pressed into Cora’s chest.

“Come one Cora. Come on breathe.” Stiles was urging.

Jules leaned own, pinched the girls nose and blew.

_Please, please, please do not die. I can’t have anyone else die while I try to save their lives. That can’t keep happening to me. Please Cora I won’t be able to-_

Cora gasped and coughed. Jules climbed off of her and tumbled onto the bench next to Stiles. They both let out sighs of relief. Stiles leaned on Jules. She grabbed his hand and used to other to gesture to Cora.

“See? Everything is fine.” She said in an exasperated voice. He raised his eyebrows. Her heart pounded and her hands shook.

_Another life in my incompetent hands._

“The next time my mouth is on someone else’s they better be awake.” He commented, likely trying to lighten the mood. His eyes flicked to her, he looked at her like it was his life she'd just saved.

Jules responded by not looking at him and by pulling her knees up into her chest. She shut her eyes and felt them burn. She didn’t want to cry. She didn’t want to let that happen. Jules took a ragged breath. Without a word Stiles moved closer to her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. Jules grabbed his hand and intertwined their fingers. She stared at their hands.

_When did this happen?_

She raised her head and looked up at Stiles, only to find he was looking down at her. Their faces close enough that Jules noticed.  Jules couldn’t remember when she had decided that she welcomed his touch instead of recoiling from it. She couldn’t place a moment where Stiles had become her… friend? Close friend? Jules returned to staring down.

_This son of a bitch crept up on me._

* * *

 

Jules wasn’t keeping track of time but soon enough Stiles was trying to comfort Cora again. Maybe holding on to some false hope that she could hear him, that she wasn’t going to die right in front of them. Jules was almost certain she would, and she didn’t know how she would handle it when she did.

“Just hold on a little longer, okay?” He asked her.

“She will.” Jules said in a strong but small voice. “She’s gonna be okay.”

_Wow. I am a liar._

Stiles’s eyes flicked to Jules. “If anyone’s gonna get us out of this its Scott.” Jules nodded and pressed her lips together, Stiles, much like Jules, didn’t look like he believed his own words. “I can’t believe I just said that.”

“Stiles-” Jules said softly.

“You know I actually used to be the one with the plan.” He rubbed his hands together, having pulled away from her. “At least a plan B.” His voice was quiet and pained.

Jules reached forward and put her hand on his wrist. She stayed quiet, knowing when it was her turn to listen.

“Now, I don’t know.” He sighed and raised his shining eyes up to meet hers. She felt the sharp hooks of pain burrow into her heart. “Maybe Cora was right. You know, maybe – maybe we are pretty much useless.” Jules shook her head, he looked away from her. “Maybe all we really do is show up and find the bodies.” He fidgeted his hands and looked helplessly back to Jules; his eyes were wet with tears. “I don’t want to find my father’s body.” His voice was just above a whisper, like he only wanted her to hear it. Like if Cora was listening, it wasn't her he wanted to know.

Jules leaned forward and up and pulled him into a bone crushing hug. It sent waves of pain up her arms and back and the side Blake and kicked but she pushed it away. And it hurt even more when he held her just as tightly but she ignored the pain. His face was buried in the crook of her neck. He was holding her like she was all he had. And in that moment she was. His father was gone, Scott was gone, Lydia and Allison weren’t around, everyone was gone except for her. “Stiles you aren’t going to. I promise.”

_There is no promise in this world anyone can keep. But I’ll say it anyway._

* * *

 

_How can she sound so strong?_

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” Stiles said into her neck. He could have sworn she shivered. She let out a short laugh and pulled away from him, her hand was tight on his shoulder. She looked him dead in the eye.

“I don’t.” She stated, her mouth was a hard line.

_Do you mean that?_

Stiles’s eyes flicked to the slash on her neck and then back up to her face. She didn’t look like someone who would pick a fight with anyone, let alone hold a knife to their neck or walk into a pool of gasoline to save a stranger. But people didn’t tend to look like what they were or what they’d seen until you knew them. And even then, Stiles didn’t look at her and see whatever pain and horror she’d endured. Whatever it was she thought he must see. He saw somebody who survived. He saw somebody who had seen the worst of everything and found it in themselves to believe that people were still worth saving. 

“Jules.” He said softly. “I don’t see what it is you think I do, whatever you went through, that’s never what’s going through my head when I look at you.” He wanted her to believe that he was telling her the truth. He wanted her to know that whatever happened to her didn't affect him. That he could know whatever it was she would let him know and he would still see her the same.

_I don’t know if that was the worst word choice or the best._

Her face was unreadable, but if anything, she looked slightly annoyed. Like she couldn’t believe he was bringing this up again. “Yeah?” She asked incredulously. “Then what do you see?” There was a waver in her voice, enough of a tremor for Stiles to know that it actually mattered to her, that she wanted to know.

For a moment he was at a loss for words, he didn’t have an answer. He only knew what he didn’t see. Stiles stared open-mouthed at her and was almost grateful for noise outside. Until he remembered that was almost certainly not good.

“It could just be…” Jules started but trailed off when she heard the growl. The both moved to lean against the door and stared out the windows.

Stiles could feel his heart rate climbing with fear and anticipation. The shadow of the twins appeared on the wall; Jules jerked away from the window and pulled Stiles back as the twins walked by. Her hand clutched the thin fabric of his t-shirt. He turned back to her; her eyes were wide with fear.

* * *

 

_“I don’t see what it I you think I do, whatever you went through, that’s never what’s going through my head when I look at you.” Then what? What you ass? You don’t end a sentence like that, I mean what the hell? You can’t look me in the eye, say that and then not say something afterwards. That just isn’t cool. What am I supposed to think?_

She glared at the back of Stiles’s head.

_Infuriating. I am completely-_

Footsteps echoed through the garage. Jules unwittingly cringed, remembering her time in Eichen House.

_Echo House._

 She froze and tried to ignore the hammering of her heart and pushed away the idea that it might be caused by more than her fear of the alphas of Blake.

_Like what? What else are you afraid of right now?_

Jules could hear her own sarcastic thought bouncing around her head. She knew exactly what she was afraid of. Feet shuffled nearby and Jules and Stiles shared a petrified look, knowing that anything that wanted to kill them would have an easy time doing it. She clenched her fists and almost screamed as Scott’s faced appeared in the window.

“Jesus Christ.” She snapped and both she and Stiles lunged for the doors.

“Help me get him in.” Scott said in regards to an ill looking Peter.

_Adrenaline does have quite the crash._

Jules slid back as Stiles pulled the werewolf in.

“Where’s Derek and Jennifer?” Stiles asked Scott.

“I have to go back for them and my mom.” Scott said tiredly.

“Okay two problems.” Stiles began. “Kali’s got the keys to this thing.” He spat out.

“And the twins were here like thirty seconds ago.” Jules finished for him. He nodded.

Something banged outside. “Why? Why is this happening?” Jules muttered to herself, she could practically feel Peter rolling his eyes.

“Stay here.” Scott said to them and he took off running.

_Yeah,like we have a choice._

* * *

 

Jules bounced her leg up and down. She hated waiting. The moment they heard a car entre the garage she was on her feet, flinging the ambulance doors open. Peter took Cora to Isaac and into the car; she ran to them, Stiles wasn't beside her.

“Stiles!” She called. "Come on!" She wanted to get out of there. She wanted to be in her own home, in her own bed. Then she remembered that her mother was also in the home. She shuddered.

He was staring at something on the door. She ran to his side and followed his eyes. Reading what he did.

“Holy sh-” She didn’t get time to process before Isaac was screaming.

“Guys let’s go!” Isaac urged.

After a moment of contemplation and without a word Stiles sprinted back into the hospital. Jules followed him.

“Jules!” Isaac shouted.

“Go!” She screamed back, her voice was raw.

* * *

 

Their feet echoed down the empty hallways as they sprinted towards the elevator.  If there was any sound on earth Jules would have eradicated, it was that one. They spotted Scott.

“Scott!” Stiles screamed.

“Scott, wait!” Jules shouted. Over the clack of their shoes on the floor.

They spotted Derek. “Damn it!” Jules shouted. Stiles stopped for a moment, she ran and knelt next to Derek “Stiles go!” She shouted.

A look passed over his face, one that plainly said that he didn’t want to leave either of them there, defenseless against whatever may come. “Go!” she urged. And he turned and ran.

Jules put her fingers to Derek’s neck. “Okay.” She sighed. “Okay, okay. You’re breathing. You have a pulse. Alright. All good things.” Jules got to her feet and stood behind his body, with her back to the elevator wall. She looked up the hatch; the one Blake must have escaped from.

_There’s no reason she’d come back? Is there?_

She prodded Derek with her foot. “You know, I should kick you for grabbing me earlier. That wasn’t cool.” She said matter-of-factly. Her voice bounced around the empty hall. Reminding her she was alone with an unconscious werewolf, in a building full of angry, conscious werewolves.

_And a serial killing witchy thing. Don’t forget that._

She sighed and lightly hit her head against the wall. Her entire body screamed with pain.

_Also you have a stalker._

Panic rose up in her chest. She forced it down and pulled out her phone. And again decided it should remain off.

_Your parents have probably called the police or something. Mom will kill you if a supernatural creature doesn’t do it first._

As her heart beat calmed and the adrenaline subsided her pain returned in full. She accepted the fact that for the time being her life was pain and fear. She thought she should have come to that conclusion sooner. She had come to the same one, years earlier. The throb in her head, the blood on her chest, and the stab of agony every time she took a breath or moved her arm, all reminded her that she didn’t heal. They reminded her that she would be paying for this night for a while, they would be added to all of her other scars. Jules lifted her shirt and examined her stomach. The only bruise was the swollen red and purple mark on her side from Blake.

_So I’m probably not bleeding internally, which is nice. There would be a bruise wouldn’t there?_

She slid down the wall and pulled her knees into her chest; she rested her chin on them and stared at Derek.

_I wonder if you wish you didn’t wake up. You don’t have to deal with things if you’re unconscious. You don’t have to feel anything._

Her chest heaved and her hands shook. She felt pain and anger and fear burn under her skin like a wildfire. Jules bit her lip and held back the flood of emotion that would come. Blake was gone. Which meant Cora was back to imminent death and Stiles’s dad was lost.

_Parent or guardian._

Her head snapped up. They had heard Scott shout something before they’d gotten to him. It hadn’t been important what it was.

_“Mom!”_

Jules slammed her fists into the ground and was made once again aware that her hands too, were in agony. She screamed in frustration. Jules wanted to go find Scott and Stiles but they were long gone and to where, she didn’t know. Eventually someone would come back, if not for her then for Derek. She prodded him again and sighed.

_You know what. You deserve a moment of peace._

 


	16. Alpha Pact

**Author Note: I’m in the early stages of writing 3b and it’s gonna be  heavier on Lydia and Jules’s relationship. And it’s gonna be a big growing and changing ‘season’ for Jules. Just like, if anyone was wondering.**

** Chapter Sixteen – Alpha Pact **

* * *

 

Jules could hear footsteps coming down the hallway. She was grateful, but the problem was she could only hear one set. She tossed herself out of the elevator and almost collided with a panicking Stiles.

“Where’s Scott?” She blurted out before it clicked in her head, Scott would be what he was panicking about.

Stiles raced past her into the elevator and knelt next to Derek and raised his hand. Jules cringed.

“There are better ways to-” She started worriedly but was cut off by Stiles slapping Derek across the face. She turned away.

_Derek is gonna kill him._

“Derek!” Stiles shouted and hit him again. “Derek!” Again.

Reluctantly Jules whipped around and gave Derek a sharp kick to the ribs. “Derek Hale!” She barked. Stiles was frantic.

“Derek come on!” He screamed.

Jules’s heart leapt into her chest. “Stiles punch him! Ju – just hit him harder!” She screamed.

Stiles made a fist and brought it down towards Derek’s head. The werewolf snapped awake and grabbed his arm in mid swing. Jules let out a sigh of relief and then kicked him again. He glowered at her.

“Just making sure!” She screeched.

_That was for grabbing me earlier._

Derek looked around. “Where is she?” He groaned.

“Gone!” Jules shouted, panic bubbled up in her chest. She pointed to the open elevator hatch.

“With Scott’s mom.” Stiles added urgently, trying to squelch his building panic.

Jules’s heart sank. She hadn’t been sure and now that she was, all she wanted to do was scream.

“She took her?” Derek asked in disbelief.

Stiles glanced at Jules and then back down to him. “Yeah, and if that’s not enough of a kick to the balls, Scott left with Deucalion, okay?” Jules felt like she’d been punched in the gut. “So, we gotta get you out of here. The police are coming right now, and we got to get you the hell out of here!” Jules and Stiles hoisted Derek to his feet.

“What about Cora?” he asked them.

Jules and Stiles exchanged nervous looks. “She’s with Peter and Isaac. She’s still alive.” Jules said in an even voice. She turned to Stiles. “Police?” She asked incredulously. “Could that also mean the fire department?”

Stiles nodded, he looked grim. “The one that your dad runs? Yeah, that one.” He said sarcastically, was breathing heavily, a poor attempt to stay calm. Jules groaned and flicked her eyes to Derek.

“One crisis at a time.” She muttered.

* * *

 

Stiles and Jules slumped into chairs in the emergency waiting area. Both of them exhausted, she bounced her legs up and down.

“Stay calm, everything is fine. It’s all fine. It’s all good.” She mumbled under her breath. “Everyth – I know you!” She shouted at a man who was approaching them. Jules sounded like she’d seen a ghost. Stiles knew the man to; he was Agent McCall of the FBI. Scott’s father.

“Oh just perfect.” Stiles muttered and grabbed Jules’s hand. He didn’t want to ask how they knew each other; he guessed it wasn’t a good story. McCall stepped in front of them, Jules’s fingers tightened uncomfortably around his hand.

“A Stilinski at the center of this whole mess, what a shocker.” He glanced at Jules; she was staring up at him with a look Stiles had seen once before, the night of the motel when she'd been curled up in the back of the bus, absorbed by her past.

 “And Miss Hayes, I’m surprised to see you.” McCall's eyes flicked down to their intertwined hands. Stiles suddenly felt as if they were both under a microscope. “Think you two could answer some questions?” He looked pointedly at Stiles. “Without the usual level of sarcasm?” McCall glanced at Jules. “Or hostility?”

Stiles wanted to punch McCall even more then he already did. “If you can ask the questions without the usual level of stupid?” He quipped and glanced at Jules. She shot him a small and pained smile but said nothing.

McCall smiled sardonically. “Where’s your dad, and why has no one been able to contact him?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t seen him in hours.” Stiles told him the truth, and it pained him that that was the truth.

“Is he drinking again?” McCall pressed.

Stiles sighed and Jules stared murderously at McCall. “What do you mean again? He never had to stop.” Stiles defended his father.

“But he did have to slow down.” McCall pointed out. “Is he drinking like he used to?”

Jules looked about ready to leap up out of the seat and throttle him. Stiles wondered if it was however they knew each other that was holding her tongue. 

Stiles glared at him. “All right how ‘bout this? Next time I see him I’ll give him a field sobriety test, okay? We’ll do the alphabet; start with ‘F’ end with ‘U’.” He snapped. Jules let out a huff of laughter.

“How about you just tell me what the hell happened here?” He asked, unfazed by Stiles’s attitude.

“I don’t know what happened here. We were stuck in the elevator the whole time.” Stiles told him. McCall looked to Jules.

“Can your girlfriend testify to that?” He looked down at her. Jules avoided his eyes, he watched her chest rise and fall faster and faster, he could feel her pulse skyrocket.

“She’s claustrophobic.” Stiles said harshly. “Not in the best of states right now, as you can see.” He snapped.

_And also not my girlfriend._

McCall furrowed his brow. “You aren’t the ones who put the name on the doors? Are you?”

Stiles looked away from Jules at back up at him. “What name?”

McCall frowned. “Argent.”

* * *

 

Stiles and Jules sprinted from the hospital; she looked on the verge of panic. Her eyes were wide and wild. The two of them weaved hand in hand through the sea of emergency personal. A deputy caught Jules by the arm, jerking them to a stop. Jules tried to wrench herself out of the guy’s grasp but he wasn’t letting up.

“Your parents want to report you missing!” He shouted at her and then mumbled something about idiot teenagers.

Jule’s eyes were frozen on his hand around her arm, his grasp looked uncomfortably tight. Stiles stepped close to him. “Let go.” He said in a low voice. The deputy ignored him and shoved Stiles away.

“Listen kid, I don’t care what you two were doing but your girl’s dad is on the way, I don’t think you want to be here when he gets here.” His eyes were set across the parking lot.

_Why does everyone just assume we’re dating?_

He felt her shaking hand in his.

_That'd be why._

Stiles and Jules whipped around, she continued to try and pull away. The imposing form of Noah Hayes was fast approaching, Stiles faced the deputy again. “Listen let go of her or-” Stiles didn’t get to finish. Because in a blur of ruthless movement; Jules wrenched her hand out of his, socked the deputy in the stomach and as he doubled over she drove her knee up into his chest. “Don’t touch me.” She growled.

Stiles stared at her, unable to believe what had just happened. A man’s voice called her name but Jules had already grabbed a very stunned Stiles and was sprinting towards his car. Jules slid over the hood instead of wasting what would have been half a second running around. Stiles rooted around in his pocket for the key.

“Stiles! Impending angry fireman!” She barked at him.

He nodded and yanked his jeans form his pocket and fumbled with the lock. As soon as she heard the click they each barreled inside and Stiles was speeding away before the doors had even shut.

* * *

 

Jules was trying to keep her breath and hands steady as they raced away.

_“Stiles! Impending angry fireman!” Except he wasn’t angry. He is never angry with Gail or I. Just Charlotte. He’s only ever disappointed in us. And that's kind of worse._

Pain slithered through her veins and into her chest. She felt guilty. More guilt then was warranted, she knew that. But Jules couldn’t help but feel as if she’d betrayed him somehow, him and her whole family.

_I disappear for almost three years, sit in Eichen house for six months and I put them all through hell and as soon as I’m out I start lying my ass off. What kind of daughter am I?_

Jules clenched her hands into fists.

_None of that is my fault. I never had a choice. I still don’t have a choice._

Her heart pounded and her head spun. She clutched the side of the door. Stiles said her name, she was hardly listening. Her chest flared with pain.

_That’s how it works isn’t it? Life doesn’t give you a choice does it? I don’t pick who loves me; I don’t chose who I love. I don’t decide who lives or who dies in my life. I don’t decide what happens to me. I never get a choice._

She slammed her fists on the dashboard, her vision blurred with black dots.

_Am I breathing?_

She must not have been because the car had stopped and Stiles was yanking the passenger side door open.

_I should really breathe in. That would be a good thing to do._

She was numbly aware that Stiles was hauling her out of the car. She inhaled sharply as his hand pressed her side.

_There we go. Oxygen._

He was speaking to her but Jules was focusing on how the rain stung her skin. It was cold. She was cold. Jules didn’t remember being warm since that morning when she got out of bed. That seemed like forever ago. His hands were on her back, he was staring at her, and his mouth was the shape of her name.

_Stiles. Why haven’t you lost it yet? You dad is-_

Jules snapped back into reality.

_I can’t do this crap now. People need me. He needs me._

Her chest shuddered and tears rolled down her face, she scrambled out of his arms. “Sorry.” She heaved and backed against the jeep. “Sorry.” She choked out once more and then she wiped her eyes and cleared her throat. Trying to erase what had just happened. Stiles knelt in front or her.

“Jules, it’s okay.” His voice was breaking. Her eyes flicked to him sadly and she pulled herself to her feet.

“No. It isn’t.”

* * *

They spent the rest of the drive in silence. Jules never once asked where they were headed and Stiles was mulling over her words. What was it that wasn’t okay? Her? That had been apparent from the moment they’d met, but that hadn’t mattered, at least not in a negative way. Him? That too, had to be obvious by now. Or was it the situation? Either way Jules had just been telling him the truth, and it was a painful one to hear. His father was gone, Scott was gone and Melissa was gone and Stiles was doing all he could to hold on. And now McCall had shown up likely just to ruin everyone’s lives and Stiles wondered if or when he would notice that Melissa was missing. Regardless of anything terrible that was happening Stiles knew that all he could do was get to the others. And only hope that one of them could come up with even part of a plan. Because as it stood, they had nothing.

* * *

 

They caught sight of Allison and her father as they stepped out of the car. Jules could hear Allison trying to convince her father that he might be in danger.

_“Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is enemy action.”  Well Mr. Fleming we can’t wait for a third. Taking Melissa was no damn coincidence. It was a petty asshole move._

Jules’s thought was as bitter as her expression. None of her friends deserved this kind of horror and pain. She wasn’t sure if anyone did.

_If someone wanted to hurt me I would just want them to hurt me. Not touch the people I care about._

Jules forced herself to remember that people were sadistic. She trudged up to Allison’s home behind the others.

_If someone really wants to hurt you. They won’t kill you first._

Jules thought furiously of Blake and the knife at Lydia’s throat.

_“You’ll bathe in Lydia’s blood to.”_

Jules shuddered and forced the memory from her mind. She couldn’t afford to be distracted. To throw another fit like the one in the car.

_I cannot have problems right now. Not when everyone else’s have to matter more._

She focused on them. On the problem. On finding a solution.

“The word is guardian, Allison.” Chris opened the door for them. “More than anyone, you know that’s a role I haven’t exactly lived up to lately.” He said shortly.

“But she took Scott’s mom and Stiles’s father, that’s not a coincidence.” Allison pointed out.

“Precisely.” Jules said in a rough and quiet voice.

“Yeah, and I’d also consider the fact that someone put your name up in large block letters on the elevator doors.” Stiles reminded him.

“If that isn’t a warning I'll eat my shoes.” Jules quipped but her heart wasn’t in it.

“I think it might be Morell.” Allison said. “She knows a lot more then she lets on and she might even be trying to help us.” Allison turned to Stiles.

_Yeah maybe but the eclipse is in like two days._

“Well she needs to get on that a lot faster, okay? Seeing as how the lunar eclipse is less than two freaking nights away.”  Stiles said urgently. Jules crossed her arms.

“Even if she is in our corner we can’t rely on her extending an olive branch. We’re on our own.” Her voice was strained. Jules could feel Stiles looking up at her from the seat he had taken by her side. She avoided his eyes.

“Stiles. Don’t give up hope.” Chris said to him.

“They could already be dead.” He said pointedly. Jules crouched down next to him.

“No. They aren’t. There has to be a reason Blake is cutting this so close to the eclipse.” She said in a soft voice. Jules’s eyes flicked to Allison and then up to Chris. “We still have time.” She said in a determined voice.

“There’s something about Jennifer’s tactics.” Chris agreed. “It’s like she’s still positioning, still moving pieces into place.”

“And you’re one of them.” Allison reiterated.

Jules furrowed her brow. “It’s chess. It’s one big game of chess. Deucalion is one king; but she's playing the game. Something about this whole ordeal seems very all or nothing.” She thought out loud. Chris glanced between the two girls.

“Then let’s not wait around to see her next move.” He unfolded a map. “Everything she has done has been on a telluric current, so Melissa and the Sheriff have to be somewhere on one of those currents, right?” he explained.

_We already know this, dude. Cut to the chase._

Jules stood up and leaned over the table. She could feel the shift of her ribs as she did so.

_I cracked these, didn’t I? These are cracked._

Her eyes flicked to Stiles, he was staring at the ground. “Stiles.” She said in a soft but strong voice.

“If we’re gonna find them, we need your help.” Chris said authoritatively.

Allison and Jules exchanged worried looks. Stiles didn’t look like he wanted to help; he looked like he had given up.

“You seriously want to go after her?” His voice shook and he raised his eyes to meet Chris. “I mean, what if she takes you just like the others, huh? No offense but what’s the difference between you and them?” His asked harshly.

Chris picked up a handgun and loaded it; Jules flinched at the sound of the magazine being pushed into place. “I’m carrying a .45.” Chris answered. “Maybe she can heal from a shot to the leg and a few slashes to the face, but personally, I’d like to see how she holds up with half her skull blown off.” Chris stated and gestured with his gun. Jules put her hand out and pushed the nose of the gun towards the table. He tossed it down. “We’ve got one priority right now and that is to find Melissa and your dad.” He said to Stiles. “We’ve got a map and every clue we need to figure this out. The only thing we don’t have is time, which is why I need all of you.” He looked at each of them individually.

Stiles sighed and brought his head up to look at Argent. “Where do we start?”

* * *

 

The four of them crowded around the table.

“The places where the sacrifices have been committed have usually been different from where the bodies have been found.” Chris said.

_Well no. That girl in the woods. Kyle. The teacher tonight. Tara. But whatever._

“I think the placement has to do with the strength of the current.” He noted. Jules followed his light on the map. “So, there’s the school, the animal clinic, the bank.”

“Wait a sec; she wouldn’t use the same place twice, would she?” Stiles thought out loud.

“School.” Jules pointed out, Stiles frowned at her.

“An outlier.” Stiles rebutted and looked back to Chris, he sighed.

“Only if she didn’t succeed the first time.” He placed the light on the point marking the bank.

“Scott’s boss.” Allison said.

“Deaton. It was her only failure. That could mean something.” He said.

Jules nodded. “I guarantee it does. She is obsessive and organized, she would have been so pissed that she failed there. She’d feel like she had to make up for it.” Jules said confidently.

_I know my serial killers._

“But that’s one place so far.” Stiles said. “We’re gonna need a lot more help.”

“What about Lydia?” Allison asked her and Stiles.

_Banshee. A spirit that wails when someone is about to die._

“Lydia? What can she do?” Chris interjected, confused.

“Uh, Lydia’s got sort of a talent.” Stiles said, that didn’t help Chris’s puzzlement.

“She found bodies without looking for them.” Jules elaborated.

“What is she? Psychic?” Chris asked Allison.

Jules wondered if she should tell them. If Lydia would want her to.

“She’s something.” Stiles said thoughtfully, clearly Jules telling him that Lydia was a banshee hadn’t registered in his mind.

Jules sighed, “Blake called her a banshee. In Irish folklore it’s-”

“A female spirit that screams when someone is about to die.” Chris mused.

Jules nodded and clucked her tongue, “Morbid.”

Chris didn’t reply and checked his watch. He glanced at Stiles and Jules. “Get some rest.” He told them. His eyes flicked to Allison. “We have some things to get from storage.” She nodded grimly in understanding. Chris looked back to Jules and Stiles. “We move at first light.”

He and his daughter left the room.

_We move at first light? What kind of action movie crap is that?_

“Get some rest?” Stiles muttered incredulously. Jules chuckled.

“Yeah, no.”

Allison popped back into the room. “Jules? Could I talk to you?”

* * *

 

Jules followed Allison into her room and closed the door behind her. “Yeah? What is it?” Jules asked shortly. Allison began pulling clothes out of her drawers. 

“Lydia told me what you did at the school.”

_She was furious, by the way._

Jules was uncomfortably quiet; Allison had hoped that Jules would say something in response. As she didn’t, Allison went on, “Going after Blake like that? Really stupid Jules. I mean you don’t have…” Allison trailed off and allowed Jules to fill in the blanks.

_You don’t have any idea what you could have been facing. And how could you? You’ve ever seen anything like this before. And… is she bleeding?_

“And can I ask how you got that?” Allison looked worriedly at the slice across Jules’s chest.

“You can ask.” Jules said coolly. “No guarantee I’ll answer.”

Allison rolled her eyes and handed Jules a loose grey long sleeved t-shirt and some black leggings. “You could have gotten killed.” She said as she did it, unimpressed with Jules’s lack of caring.

Jules nodded with a somber expression on her face. “Yeah, but you can run around with a knife all you want, that doesn’t change the fact that I have experience. And I don’t see you having this conversation with Stiles.” Jules said in an even voice as she unbuttoned and peeled off Stiles’s soaked shirt and her jeans. Allison turned away to grant her some privacy.

_Yeah because it’s Stiles. I don’t think anyone could talk sense into him._

“Experience?” Allison was incredulous “Fighting werewolves?” Allison asked somewhat jokingly. Jules shrugged.

“Taking a beating.” Her voice was low and rough but her words followed easily, like she didn’t expect them to matter. Allison flinched inwardly; she hadn’t expected that to be her answer. Jules pulled her boots back on and re-laced them. Allison fell still, unsure of what to say. “And if you’re so concerned about my safety, give me a weapon.”  She said guilelessly. “I haven’t been trained in the art of slicing of a kanima’s head off or whatever but I’m not useless.” Allison wanted to tell Jules that no one had ever even mentioned teaching her decapitation but she let it slide.

_Weapon I can do._

Allison sighed. “You aren't useless, but Jules,” She reached into her closet and grabbed a black jacket. “You’re still so new to this.” She handed her friend the jacket and watched as Jules winced while she shrugged it on and pulled her hair from its ratty ponytail. Allison picked up hairbrush and placed it on the bed. Jules sighed in pain as she sat down on the end of Allison’s bed. She looked battle weary. A look that Allison had never thought she’d see on the face of a teenage girl, one that wasn't herself.

“I’m new to this?” Her voice was steady and strong, she shook her head. “Don’t you people get it?” She huffed.

“Get what?” Allison sat down next to Jules and put her hand on her arm, her voice was soft. She wanted Jules to talk; she wanted Jules to open up about something, anything. Allison knew what a burden looked like and Jules was carrying a big one. She made a mental note to get out a first aid kit. Jules would be receiving even more stitches from the hands of Allison Argent.

 “The only part of this that is new to me is all this magical shit.” Jules let out a huff of laughter. “And I guess you haven’t seen people do bad things the way I have, but this isn’t so different.” Jules was staring at her hands.

Allison’s heart sank with Jules’s words. Because Jules was right, how different was this fight from any other Jules had seen? Allison wanted to ask but knew so much better than to do so. Some wounds weren’t meant to be looked at up close; Allison had a few of her own she treated that way. Allison picked up the hairbrush. “May I?” She asked.

Jules nodded and turned her head. “Can you braid? I can do it myself but everything hurts and I don’t want to.” She said petulantly.

Allison smiled. “One or two?”

* * *

 

As the sun rose the Argents began to reveal their assortment of weapons. Jules caught Stiles's eye as she re-entered the room. She looked better since the last time Stiles had seen her. He studied her, the wounds on her head and neck had been cleaned and Stiles could spot a few stitches peeking out from under the neckline of her t-shirt. Along with a thick black strap that went across one of her shoulders. He wondered what that could be. Chris pulled a large gun from a case and checked the scope, Stiles stepped back.

“Woah.” He said as the two of them continued to examine their weapons. Allison dug around in a duffle bag for something.

“I thought you guys were retired.” Stiles commented.

“Retired yes, defenseless no.” He set down his weapon and turned to Stiles. “Make sure your phone’s on. If you hear from Scott, you let us know immediately.”

“Yeah, I’m thinking that’s gonna be kind of unlikely.” He said and glanced to Allison and Jules. The three of them looked crestfallen.

“All of you.” He got their attention. “Try to remember he’s just doing what he thinks is right.”

Stiles looked to Allison and Jules. Allison held a dagger out to Jules. It was different than the ones Allison used, the handle appeared more normal, there was no ring.

“Wha-” Stiles started, he fell quiet as Jules raised the front of her shirt and Allison slipped the knife into a sheath that rested just under her sternum. Stiles glanced at the bruise Blake had inflicted. “Jules?” He asked, baffled. “Do you know how to use that?”

_Is she serious? Is this happening?_

She shrugged and glanced at Allison slyly. “In theory.” Allison rolled her eyes. Stiles turned to Chris and gestured wildly at the girls.

“You wanna put a stop to this?” He asked him.

Chris shrugged. “I’m sure Jules knows what she’s capable of.” His eyes flicked to her. “As long as she doesn’t stab herself.” Stiles thought the detected a hint of a joke in his voice. He narrowed his eyes and scoffed.

“Are you people-”

He was cut off by a voice behind him. “I can’t shoot a gun or use a crossbow.” It was Isaac. “But, well I’m,” He held up a clawed hand. “I’m getting pretty good with these.”

Stiles rolled his eyes and shot Jules and exasperated look. “I think I have an extra bat in my car.” He muttered to himself and turned back to Jules.

“We are going to Lydia’s.” He told her. She opened her mouth to reply, maybe to say she wanted to go with them to the bank instead. “No. Nope. Lydia’s.”

Jules scowled.

“Actually first, we’re going to my house.” He decided. He wanted to change clothes to.

Her scowl intensified.

* * *

 

Jules sat on the couch and glanced back and forth between Lydia and Stiles. She found an odd comfort in having a knife one swift movement away. She’d practiced pulling it out and putting it back into its sheath until Stiles had shouted at her to stop. She didn’t blame him; she wasn’t exactly going to mention it to Lydia either. Jules bounced her feet up and down and blamed it on nerves. But she was feeling especially nervous, and she couldn’t understand why.

“I don’t believe it.” Lydia said to them. Jules’s eyes flicked to the bruise on her neck and then away.

_And there wasn’t a thing I could do._

 “Scott can’t really be with them. He can’t be.” She insisted. Jules sighed.

“Morally? No. Physically? Yeah, he is.” Jules said in a small voice. Stiles looked sadly between her and Lydia, he sighed.

“You guys didn’t see the look on his face, though. It was…” He trailed off, shaking his head. Jules wanted to comfort him.

_Not in front of Lydia. She’ll make it weird._

She looked at them, her eyes wide. “Then what can I do? I mean, I get that I’m some kind of, like, human Geiger counter for death but… I don’t know how to turn it on and off yet.” She told them. “All I know is that she tried to kill me because of-” Lydia stopped short. Jules leaned forward.

“Because of what?” Stiles asked. Lydia didn’t answer. “Hey, Lydia what?” He pressed.

Jules felt her heart race. “You being a banshee was an inconvenience. Not her motive.” Jules said.

“Exactly. She was surprised by it. What if that’s not why she tried to kill me?” She wondered.

Jules tried to think but her thoughts felt jumbled. “Then why did she?” Jules and Stiles asked at once.

Jules knew that she knew something but she didn’t know what.

“That’s what we need to find out.” Lydia stood up. “Jules. Let’s go.”

Jules felt like she had forgotten something. She didn’t respond. Her stomach churned. “God damn it!” She shouted and leapt to her feet. Lydia and Stiles on her, they both appeared at her side. “What, what is it?” he asked, his eyes searching her face. Jules sighed.

_I can miss a day of my meds can’t I? Yeah…_

“Nothing.” She told them. “Just, everything is terrible!” She exclaimed and grabbed both of their hands. “Let’s go.”

* * *

 

School was the last place Jules wanted to be, but there she was, searching out one of the last people she wanted to see.

“Aiden’s not texting me back.” Lydia said anxiously. “I’m gonna go see if I can find Danny. He might know where Ethan is.” Stiles froze and a livid look passed over his face.

_Yeah the twins piss me off to._

Jules and nodded and Lydia raced off, people moved out of her way instinctively.

_Good. They know who runs the place here._

Jules turned to Stiles. “So maybe when Lydia gets back we could go over to…” She trailed off as Stiles’s phone began to buzz. Jules’s heart leapt into her throat. She hoped it was Scott with good news, but she knew that it probably wasn’t. Jules watched him pull his phone from his pocket and his face fall. “What?” She asked.

_Nope. Not good._

“Oh. God.” She whispered. Stiles shook his head.

“It’s from Isaac.” He said quietly and paused for a moment. He looked shattered. “Jennifer she too – she has Allison’s father. She took him. She’s got all three now.” His voice was strained. She could hear him trying not to cry. Jules felt her heart begin to race but she forced her own building panic aside and focused on Stiles. His hands were shaking as he pushed his phone back into his pocket.

_Oh god oh god oh god oh god. What am I supposed to do? What can I do?_

Stiles was taking deep breaths. “There’s still time.” Jules said as calmly as she could. “Okay? We still have time. The eclipse isn’t tonight, its tomorrow night and-” She cut herself off, Jules wasn’t keeping her voice steady, she couldn’t do it even though she had to. She could see his panic rising like a tidal wave, about to come crashing down on both of them.  Jules knew what was happening and didn’t know what to do.

_Well how do you not know what to do? You have these all the time._

She took a step closer to him. “Stiles.” He stepped back, his eyes sliding in and out of focus on what was around him. She knew what that felt like, she knew that the world was getting farther and farther away from him. Jules took a deep breath.

_Okay. I know what to do._

She grabbed his arm and put a hand on his shoulder. “I think I’m having a panic attack.” He stuttered to her through his heavy breathing.

“I know Stiles.” She tightened her grip on his arm as if she could keep him tethered to the world. “I know.”

She led him down the halls, pushing students out of her way as she went. Jules shoved open the locker room door and they scrambled inside. Stiles dropped his backpack. His breathing got quicker and shallower every second. “Okay, okay.” She said and led him across the room. They both got to the ground, Stiles falling more than anything else.

“Okay, Stiles, I need you to stay here with me.” She demanded and grabbed his hands and held them tightly in her own. He stared at the ground, gasping for breath. “Stiles, I need you to look at me.” She told him. He didn’t, and Jules knew she needed to think of something else. Jules knew that almost everything that kept him grounded, that made him happy was gone.

_If I stop him from hyperventilating at least that’s a start._

She stared at him.

_Well how am I supposed to do that?_

She wanted to scream in frustration. She had to do something, anything.

_Shock. If I freak him the hell out enough he’ll freeze._

How? How was she supposed to surprise a boy who didn’t seem surprised by anything?

_How do I freak the hell out of Stiles Stilinski? What is the most outlandish, unexpected, completely startling thing I could do?_

An idea dawned on her. A bad one. But some of her best ideas in the past had been terrible. She positioned herself so she was kneeling directly in front of him. She put her hands on his shoulders. “Stiles look at me.” She said sharply. And this time he did. And then, without another reservation or hesitation Jules kissed him. 

 


	17. Alpha Pact II

**Author Note: I listened to "The Lightning Strike" by Snow Patrol while writing the kiss. You should really listen to it while reading, just for kicks you know?**

**Also I want to thank everyone for the amazing responses, I really appreciate it :)**

** Chapter Seventeen – Alpha Pact II **

* * *

 

**PREVIOUSLY:**

**She led him down the halls, pushing students out of her way as she went. Jules shoved open the locker room door and they scrambled inside. Stiles dropped his backpack. His breathing got quicker and shallower every second. “Okay, okay.” She said and led him across the room. They both got to the ground, Stiles falling more than anything else.**

**“Okay, Stiles, I need you to stay here with me.” She demanded and grabbed his hands and held them tightly in her own. He stared at the ground, gasping for breath. “Stiles, I need you to look at me.” She told him. He didn’t, and Jules knew she needed to think of something else. Jules knew that almost everything that kept him grounded, that made him happy was gone.**

**_If I stop him from hyperventilating at least that’s a start._ **

**She stared at him.**

**_Well how am I supposed to do that?_ **

**She wanted to scream in frustration. She had to do something, anything.**

**_Shock. If I freak him the hell out enough he’ll freeze._ **

**How? How was she supposed to surprise a boy who didn’t seem surprised by anything?**

**_How do I freak the hell out of Stiles Stilinski? What is the most outlandish, unexpected, completely startling thing I could do?_ **

**An idea dawned on her. A bad one. But some of her best ideas in the past had been terrible. She positioned herself so she was kneeling directly in front of him. She put her hands on his shoulders. “Stiles look at me.” She said sharply. And this time he did. And then, without another reservation or hesitation Jules kissed him.**

* * *

 

Hard at first. Like a lightning strike. Sudden and strong and burning. Jules shut her eyes and softened her lips. Figuring this was unpleasant enough for him without her making it worse.

_I’m probably not terrible at this, am I? I’ve kissed people before. Although I’ve hated it every time. This, I don’t hate._

Stiles froze but she could feel him calm down, even if it was only slightly. Jules wasn’t calm, her blood felt like electricity cackling through her veins. And then Jules realized three things. One, he was kissing her back. Two, she liked the way this felt. And finally, this was the first time she’d kissed someone of her own free will. The first time she’d done anything beyond awkward preteen hand holding that she had actually consented to. In every way that mattered, this was her first kiss. Jules pulled away, not realizing that his hand was on her arm, semi holding her where she as. Her face was inches from his. He was staring at her. She felt like the air around them was charged with the buzz and static that came with a storm. She cleared her throat and kept her eyes anywhere but him. Jules could fell him breathing, maybe he was at a loss for words, she’d freaked him out so much that he was speechless.

* * *

 

Stiles couldn’t believe what had just happened. Had Juliet Hayes just kissed him? Kissed? Him? She tasted and smelled like blood and peppermint, an odd combination. He could do without the blood. Her eyes darted around the room but her hands rested on his shoulders. Every part of him she had touched felt like a struck match. He watched her; the sun coming in from the grimy window illuminated her face. Her eyes shone, blue and green and silver and Stiles wondered how he hadn’t noticed them before.

_I should stop staring at her. It’s getting creepy._

He didn’t. And it dawned on him why she had done that. His heart was pounding and his head was spinning but that wasn’t from panic and his breathing… he was breathing. Stiles worked hard to find words and to rid himself of the thought that he could kiss her again. It wouldn’t happen again, he knew that. This was one electrifying moment that would pass. A moment of exhilarating calm in a worsening storm. His eyes flicked to her lips and he tore them away and carefully examined any other part of her face. The curve of her jaw or nose, the shape of her eyes, anything.

“How’d you do that?” He said in awe, staring at a particular scar on the bridge of her nose, tiny white jagged and forked line.

* * *

 

Jules looked back at his eyes and several sarcastic remarks sped through her head but she couldn’t speak. She tasted coffee and something sweet she couldn’t identify on her lips. She tried to ignore it and focused on him, the way he was looking at her, she didn’t recognize it. All she knew was that no one had ever looked at her like that. Like she was the silent eye of a hurricane, the only thing in that moment that mattered, the only thing in that moment he had to hold onto. And he was doing just that, his hands moved up to his shoulders and grabbed hers, he intertwined her fingers like they’d done before. This time seemed different somehow. It sent shocks up her nerves and into her brain. Jules worried for a moment that she had just knocked over a wall she could never build back up again. She had kissed him; she’d done it for a reason. But what did it mean that she wouldn’t mind doing it again? To see how it felt, to see if she could do it better the next time? But they would soon move on from it she told herself she would have to. Jules told herself he wouldn’t look at her like that again.

_There will not be a next time. Pull yourself together. Honestly._

 Her heart pounded and her head felt fuzzy. She took a shaky breathe.

_This will just be a memory soon._

“Stop breathing, stop panic. I decided kissing you was probably the most insane thing I could do.” The words stumbled awkwardly out of her mouth.

A strange look passed over his face, Jules could have sworn it was a flicker of hurt. She was desperate to know why.

“Not insane. Smart.” He said, still staring at her with this look she couldn’t identify. She didn’t have a word for it, only comparisons.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d hold your breath but you did.” She pointed out. And she wanted to ask him why. Why had he held his breathe? Why had he kissed her back? Why was he looking at her like that?

“Thanks.” He said shakily. She studied his face and tried to figure out what was going on inside her own head.

_“Not insane. Smart.” So we’ve established that wasn’t lunacy. Good._

 But Jules knew a million ways to deal with a panic attack and why had stopping his breathing come into her head? Why was kissing him the first thing she thought of? Jules stared at him. She felt light and strangely dizzy. She moved to sit next to him instead of across. One of her hands fell from his, Stiles’s eyes followed her. She liked his eyes, they were warm. Jules had never had anything bad to say about brown eyes; in this light they shined gold. Her heart pounded.

_Stop. Stop that. Stop what you’re doing. Don’t. I know what’s happening here, I’ve watched movies._

“I’ve got a good psychiatrist. I’d recommend it.” Jules said with a lopsided smile. “First session is free.” She raised an eyebrow at him. He let out a small laugh, his eyes still on her. They flicked down to her mouth and then back up to her eyes.

_Oh god._

She brought her knees into her chest and leaned her head on them, her bright blue eyes still tracking him. There was a wall that Jules had built between herself and this kind of interaction. The hand holding, the touching, a kiss. Jules didn’t remember handing Stiles a sledge hammer but she did know that she had just taken a wrecking ball to it herself. For a moment she wondered what Erin would say.

_Who cares? Screw the shrink. That was good._

Stiles furrowed his brow. “Psychiatrist.” He mumbled and he looked away from her, his face fell into thought. “Morell.” He said.

Jules froze and then scrambled to her feet, and in a flurry of movement Stiles did the same. She saw from the corner of her eye as he reached for her hand and the stopped and put it in his pocket instead. A bit of the electricity that thrummed through her veins cackled out. “Morell.” She repeated and they ran for the door.

* * *

 

As the two of them raced through the school Stiles wondered what things would be like if this all somehow ended up okay. She walked just ahead of him; her blonde hair reminded him of braided gold. He looked past her and down the hall. It wasn’t hard. Stiles suddenly became very aware that Jules was much smaller than him. He hadn’t paid much attention before. He hadn’t paid much attention to her appearance much before at all. But now that the feeling of her kiss shot through him like lightning there were a lot of things he was paying more attention to. One of those things was not his surroundings because he slammed into a student and heard Lydia call his name.

“Stiles! Jules!” She came racing down the hall. “I couldn’t find Danny…” She trailed off and Stiles could tell she was studying them both, her eyebrows rose. “What happened?” She asked urgently.

Stiles couldn’t remember how to speak.

_Jules kissed me._

Stiles didn’t want to think about how that conversation would go, with either of them. He felt as though that was something they weren’t ever going to discuss again.

“Blake took Chris.” Jules said stiffly. “We’re going to see Morell.”

Lydia nodded and Jules brushed past her and they continued down the halls. “Stiles.” She said and waved her hand in front of her face. “Are you okay?”

He stared numbly at Lydia. “I don’t know.”

* * *

 

The three of them burst into the guidance office. Jules stared with a puzzled expression at Danielle.

“Heather’s friend.” She stated flatly.

_You idiot! Is your brain working?_

Jules very well knew that the answer was no.

“Are you here for Miss Morell?” Stiles asked her.

_This is her office. Is your brain not working either?_

“No, I thought this was gym class.” Danielle deadpanned. Lydia pursed her lips.

“Sweetheart, we’re not in the mood for funny.” She quipped. Danielle did not look amused. “Do you know where she is?” Lydia pressed.

“If I did, I wouldn’t be waiting here for twenty minutes. So how about you two back out the door and wait your turn.” She snapped.

“Two? There are three of us.” Jules pointed out.

Danielle rolled her eyes. “Honey, everyone knows you need to be here.”

Jules couldn’t think of a better retort then to roll her eyes and scoff. She caught sight of Stiles and she looked away. He was staring at her.

 “We’re not here for a session.” Lydia told her in an exasperated voice.

“Well I am. And I’ve got some serious issues to work on.” Danielle said impatiently.

“You’re Heather’s best friend.” Stiles said softly.

“Yeah. Blondie already pointed that out. I was Heather’s best friend. We’ve been working on that issue three times a week.” Danielle said sadly.

Jules felt a pang in her chest, she wanted to comfort Danielle the way she had done for Cora. But there was no time.

_Time._

“Morell is twenty minutes late?” She confirmed.

“I don’t know why either.” Danielle said before they could ask. “She’s always on time.”

Lydia looked like she already knew that. “I was seeing her at the beginning of the semester. She was never late.” Lydia turned to Stiles and Jules.

“Then she’s not late she’s missing.” Stiles thought out loud.

Jules sighed. “We can’t be the only ones who think she knows something.” Lydia nodded in agreement.

“Then I want to know what she knows.” Stiles muttered and darted over to her desk, Jules stood at his side as they rifled through the papers and drawers.

“What are you doing?” Danielle asked incredulously.

“Trying to find her.” “Methamphetamines.” Jules and Stiles said at the same time. Jules glanced at Lydia and hoped she’d found a little amusement in her joke, there was none on her face. Only worry.

“Those files are private.” Danielle reminded them.

“Yeah, they kind of are.” Lydia agreed.

“Hush.” Jules said to both of them and grabbed a folder Stiles handed to her. “This one is yours.” She held it out to Lydia.

“Let me see that.” Lydia snatched it from her hand.

Jules and Stiles continued to look for anything that may help them as Lydia went through her folder. An image caught Jules’s eye, with a memory attached.

_“I didn’t know you had so many hidden talents.”_

“Tree!” Jules shouted and stood back up.

“Yeah, I know it’s a tree.” Lydia said.

“Yeah, it’s good to.” Danielle commented. Jules nodded at her.

“Thank you.” Lydia said.

“No but that’s the same one though.” Stiles said and stood up.

“Same as what?” Lydia raised her eyebrows. Jules walked towards her friend and looked over her shoulder at the drawing.

“Same as the one you were drawing in class. The one that Blake saw.” She said quietly.

“It’s a tree.” Lydia stated. “I like drawing trees.” She wasn’t connecting the dots. Jules flicked her eyes to Stiles and then to Lydia’s bag. Stiles reached for her bag and began to riffle through. Lydia shot Jules a look of profound disbelief. Jules grabbed the two pages.

“Lydia they’re the same.” Jules urged and took a step back. “This is what you weren’t supposed to know!” She half shouted. Danielle looked at Jules like she was a lunatic.

Stiles laid Lydia’s notebook out on the table. “There, see?” He pointed to the identical drawings and then began to slip through the pages. All of them held at least one of the sketches.

“Okay, you can have my session.” Danielle relented and walked out.

Lydia gasped. “What is this?” Jules stepped between Stiles and Lydia and grabbed her friend’s hand.

Jules was practically vibrating with energy. “It’s a place, that tree has to be important to Blake, that’s why it was worth trying to kill you.” Without thinking she grabbed Stiles’s arm and turned him towards her. “Stiles that’s where the final sacrifice is going to happen. That’s where your dad is.” She spoke in an assured voice. Jules was certain.

Stiles froze and picked up the book, Jules could see the gears turning in his head as he flipped it around, turning the tree into roots. Jules and Stiles shared a look of realization.

“I know where they are.” He said.

Jules’s heart pounded, but not with anxiety but with excitement.

_We still have time. We still have hope._

* * *

 

**“** It’s the nemeton, that’s where she’s keeping them.” Stiles explained to Lydia as the barged out of the office. It has to be-”

“Stilinski.” A familiar voice called out.

Jules felt a shiver run up her spine.

_This guy._

Stiles groaned and Jules linked arms with Lydia. “We’ll go to Derek.” She assured.

Stiles leaned forward and Jules briefly wondered what he was about to do. “Tell them it’s the root cellar.” He said to both of them. His eyes flicked to Lydia. “They’ll know.”

The two girls nodded and Jules grabbed Stiles’s arm as he turned away. “We’re gonna find him.” She said in a determined voice. “I promise.”

_Again with the promises. You're no fortune teller moron._

Jules saw the hard lines of his face soften and she could feel Lydia’s eyes studying both of them. Stiles glanced behind him and sighed. “Go, before he wants to interrogate you to.” He said to her.

Jules nodded somberly and forced away an unpleasant memory. Her aversion to agent McCall aside, she didn’t want to leave Stiles alone. Neither it seemed, did Lydia. “Come on.” She whispered to Jules and they walked arm in arm out of the school.

* * *

 

Lydia hated all of the stairs involved with getting up to the loft, but it gave her a moment to talk to Jules.

“I know you haven’t taken your medication today.” She blurted out. Lydia knew that Jules was supposed to take it every morning and she knew that Jules hadn't been home that morning.

Jules shrugged. “I can miss a day.” She said nonchalantly.

Lydia scowled. “Fine, but you can’t miss tomorrow.”

“I doubt I’ll be getting home until the morning after the eclipse.” Jules admitted. “So, I’ll just have to deal.” She spoke quickly; Lydia could tell she was nervous.

“Jules.” Lydia said cautiously. “What are you taking?”

Jules kept walking, her footsteps echoed up the stairwell. Lydia swore she saw Jules flinch at the sound. Lydia caught up to her and put a soft hand on her friend’s elbow. “Jules, we need you to be okay. I need you to be okay.” Lydia’s voice shook as she spoke just above a whisper.

Jules fidgeted her hands and smoothed the black strap of something that lay across her shoulder. She raised her eyes to meet Lydia’s. Her face was hard lines and shadows. “I am okay.” She whispered. “There isn’t a thing I can’t bear.”

Lydia’s heart sank. “You can’t say that.” She whispered. “You haven’t seen it all yet.” Lydia warned. Knowing that there were so many things that could happen to either of them, supernatural or otherwise.

Jules rolled her shoulders and cracked her knuckles. “I’ve seen enough to say the things that I do.” She said in a rough voice. She reached down and took Lydia’s hand as the two continued their ascent up to the loft.

* * *

 

The words that Jules wanted to say hung on her lips as they took the final steps to the door. Jules didn’t want to see Peter. She was afraid of Peter.

_Oh by the way I kissed Stiles. It wasn’t terrible. I don't know what kissing is supposed to be like but that felt like it._

Jules knew better. She wasn’t going to tell Lydia or Allison or anyone. She wasn’t even going to remind Stiles that it happened. Jules pounded her fist on the door.

“Emergency!” She screamed.

The door was wrenched open and Lydia froze. Jules let out in inaudible sigh. She had hoped that Lydia could take the lead, that she could have the courage Jules didn’t when it came to Peter. Jules realized that was a stupid thing to hope. Peter had tried to kill her.

“You.” Lydia said, stunned.

“Me.” He replied, almost sheepishly. Jules sighed and ignored the hammering of her heart, she squeezed Lydia’s hand.

“You.” Lydia said again, angrier this time.

“Me.” Peter sighed and stepped out of the way to let them inside. Jules took the first step, Lydia close beside her.

“We know where Blake is keeping the sacrifices.” Peter looked surprised. “And you know where that is.”

“Derek!” Peter called. “We have visitors!”

* * *

 

“You don’t know where it is.” Lydia said harshly. Jules paced behind her.

“You have been there! You have been in the root cellar with the nemeton, that’s where…” She trailed off.

_That’s where Derek killed Paige._

“We have.” Peter confirmed impatiently, his eyes flicked angrily to Jules. “But after a few memorable experiences there, Talia, Derek’s mother, my older sister, decided that she didn’t ever want us going back.” Jules detected some resentment in his voice.

_Remember. He’s a sociopath._

“She knew how dangerous it was and took the memory of its location from us.” Peter explained.

Jules wanted to walk up and stab Peter just for the feeling of doing something. “The sun is going down and the eclipse is tomorrow night!” She shouted furiously at Peter and looked to Derek. “A slew of terrible things are going to happen, and you are telling me that you can’t help, at all?” She snapped viciously.

“How are we supposed to find it?” Lydia asked them, she was much calmer then Jules. Jules was impressed.

Neither Peter nor Derek said anything and Jules was enraged.

_Morell is gone, Scott is gone, these two dumbasses are useless, who are we supposed to-_

“Deaton.” Jules said quietly and looked to Lydia. “Let’s go, and leave these two to their brooding.” She spat. Jules heard Lydia’s phone buzz.

“It’s Stiles.” Lydia told her. Jules’s heart skipped.

_No, no, no. Don’t do that._

Lydia let out a soundless laugh. “You know, you two have the same brain. He’s at the clinic.” She looked up at Jules, who was avoiding Lydia’s gaze. “He might have a plan.” Jules felt a small weight being lifted off of her chest.

_Of course, that’s Stiles._

* * *

 

“It has to be on a telluric current.” Stiles said in confidence. “Or maybe even at the axis of two or where they all intersect.” Jules paced next to Lydia and nodded.

“We know it’s where Derek took Paige to die.” Jules added. Stiles didn’t look at her as she spoke, his eyes were on Deaton.

_Is that on purpose? God I’m such a hypocrite. I’m doing the same thing, aren't I?_

Allison leaned on the table. “My dad and Gerard were there once, but Gerard said it was years ago, and he couldn’t remember where it was.” She said in a solemn voice.

Jules clenched and unclenched her hands. “If everyone would stop being an amnesiac it would be so helpful.” She muttered bitterly.

“And my dad obviously isn’t here to tell us now.” Allison added.

“Yeah, mine either.” Stiles said quietly.

Jules would do anything she could to hide them both from the pain they were feeling. But she knew there were a lot of things she was powerless to stop.

“Then how do we find this place?” Isaac asked in a bitter tone.

“Excellent question.” Jules huffed. She watched as Stiles’s eyes flicked between her and Isaac and then fall on Deaton. Jules and everyone else followed his gaze.

“There might be a way.” Deaton said somberly. “But it’s dangerous.” He warned and turned to them. “We’re gonna need Scott.”

Jules stomach churned. She had no idea what his idea was. But she knew already that she didn’t like it.

* * *

 

Jules wouldn’t stop pacing. It was driving Stiles up the wall. He could tell she wasn’t happy with the plan. But he doubted any of them were, but her in particular. She had tossed her burrowed jacket on the table. He could see the tense of her shoulders and the strain and coil of the muscles in her back. She was anxious, maybe even more so then him.

“Jules could you calm down?” Isaac asked her. She glowered at him.

“No.” She said darkly. “Can’t stop, won’t stop, Lahey, get with the program.” She snapped.

Stiles would have chuckled if he couldn't hear Deaton pouring ice and assorted plants into a tub. But Stiles didn’t remember if he’d ever seen her so close to lashing out at anyone or anything. He had seen her sleeve get caught on a door handle and Stiles swore she had almost snapped the thing off. He wasn’t the only one to notice, Lydia was tracking her friend. Her fingers clenched tightly around her cellphone. Every so often she would look down at it and back to Jules. He watched Lydia put her phone away and pick up a bag of ice, Jules grabbed one as well and made quick work of dumping it into a tub. Then she returned to her pacing.

“Alright.” Deaton’s voice cut through the unbearably tense atmosphere of the room. “What did you bring?”

Stiles held his father’s badge lightly in his hand. He had just spent the past twenty minutes in the parking lot hammering it out as flat as he could with a wrench. “My dad’s badge.” His voice was strained. “Jennifer kind of crushed it in her hand, so I tried hammering it out a bit.” He shook his head and stared down at the warped and scratched star. “Still doesn’t look great.”

“It doesn’t need to look good if it has meaning.” Deaton assured him.

“Is that an actual silver bullet?” Isaac asked. Everyone’s eyes went to Allison.

“My dad made it.” She said softly. “It’s kind of a ceremonial thing. When one of us finishes learning all the skills to be a hunter, we forge a silver bullet as a testament to the code.” She explained, her dark eyes didn’t leave the bullet. Stiles wondered how she stayed so strong.

“Scott?” Deaton asked.

Scott opened his palm. “My dad got my mom this watch when she first got hired at the hospital.” He told them. “She used to say it was the only thing in their marriage that ever worked.”

Stiles noticed Jules freeze in place and then continue with her loop across the room.

“Okay, the three of you will get in.” Deaton began. “Each of us will hold you down until you’re essentially… well, dead.”

Everyone was silent as they listened. Stiles felt like throwing up. He would do anything to protect his father, but he never thought it would ever actually warrant dying.

“But it’s not just someone to hold you under.” Deaton continued. “It needs to be someone who can pull you back, someone that has a strong connection to you, kind of an emotional tether.”

Stiles’s heart leapt into his throat. Scott was going under with him. He saw Lydia and Allison exchange small smiles; Lydia took a step towards Allison. Deaton caught Stiles’s eye and then looked at Lydia and then Jules. Unfortunately, Jules noticed and froze in place. She looked ready to keel over.

“What.” She said flatly, drawing the attention of the whole room, Jules looked rather green. She stared incredulously at Deaton. “You can’t be serious? I- I- I co- couldn-” She began to stammer.

“Jules.” Stiles said as calmly as he could under the pressure of everyone’s eyes, under the pressure of what was at stake. “You’ve done it before.” He looked at her knowingly. 

_So much for not talking about that kiss._

Jules unfroze and strode over to him as Scott and Isaac nodded to each other.

“Stiles you are asking me not only to kill but to bring you back to life.” She hissed. “How can you trust me to do that?” Her voice was feeble. “Okay, stopping a panic attack is way different from-”

“Pretend it’s not.” He cut her off.

“Are you sure you don’t want Lydia do to it and then-”Stiles frowned. Did she know that he had been in love with Lydia? Did she think that he was still in love with Lydia? Was he still in love with Lydia?

“Jules, I want you.” He interrupted her again.

He saw her face contort in pain and he hated that he used those words. “Stiles.” She said warningly.

“Jules.” He sounded determined.

He could see her thinking and he watched her give in. Her face softened and she pursed her lips. “Okay.” She sighed. And looked sadly to the tubs. “Okay.”

* * *

 

Jules stood next to Lydia and stared helplessly at as their friends approached the frigid tubs. She rolled up the sleeves of Allison’s shirt.

_Another life in my hands. Why does this keep happening?_

She watched the muscles in Stiles’s back tense with the fear of what he was about to do. Jules cringed and imagined what that might be like.

_Could I do it? Could I die to save my parents? If I was in Stiles’s place I would have to. Because it would mean saving everyone else’s. But if I was alone? People aren’t brave when they’re alone. They’re selfish. Who am I in the dark? I’m a coward._

Stiles turned around and looked at her, his eyes a question but Jules could only guess what it was.

_Can you push me down? Can you pull me back? Can I rely on you do to this?_

Jules gave him a reluctant nod of encouragement and felt another little piece of her wall crumble.

_If you never come back? Will I regret it if I don’t kiss you again?_

She looked away from him and decided that she could live with that regret. She looked to Allison and shot her a look of apology.

_I wish we were closer. I wish there had been a better chance to make that happen._

She hoped the guileless look on her face told her truths as she looked to Scott.

_I would step into that gasoline again. I would step into that water with you if it would help._

Her eyes fell back to Stiles as he braced his hands on the edge of the tub and they all began to step in. Each of them shivered and cringed and held their breath. Fighting every primal instinct they had to jump out.

_Some things are more important than fear._

They each slid in up to their necks and Lydia, Jules and Isaac stepped into their places.

“By the way, uh.” Stiles said to Scott. “If I don’t make it back and you do, you should probably know something.” He choked out through his shivering. “Your dad’s in town.”

Scott looked like he’d been punched in the gut and Jules wanted to say something to him but knew this wasn’t the time.

_When they make it back._

Jules watched her friends exchange looks of readiness and fear. Jules felt ready to vomit. Scott nodded to Allison and Stiles. Jules placed her hands on Stiles’s shoulders. The same place they’d been when she’d kissed him. Jules felt him tense under her touch and she tightened her grip. Knotting her fingers in his t-shirt. Her eyes burned as Stiles took his final breath and then she pushed down, driving his head under the surface. Lydia, Isaac and Jules all looked behind them to Deaton, fear apparent in their eyes. They were drowning people they loved, how could they not be terrified? Jules looked back down at Stiles. He looked peaceful, like he could be asleep. But he wasn’t. Bubbles had stopped coming from his nose and she knew that water had filled his lungs. Jules had read that drowning was supposed to be peaceful once the water was all that filled the lungs. That it was like falling asleep. She glanced at the still forms of her friends and hoped that if they didn’t wake up, at least that hadn’t died in pain.

 


	18. Lunar Eclipse

** Chapter Eighteen – Lunar Eclipse **

* * *

 

The frigid water crept into Jules’s veins as she let her hands rest in it, just above Stiles’s shoulders. She felt ice circulate through her body and she froze in place. Her heart slowed to a normal pace, her breath was even. She was calm. Jules slumped against the tub and stared down into the water at Stiles.

_He’s dead. You did that. He couldn’t have held himself down, you did it._

The storm of panic that had been a swirling around her the entire day came pouring down. She shot to her feet with the force of a bullet from a gun and bolted from the room. Chills ran up and down her body and she could feel her world closing in on her. Every moment since she’d stumbled out of Eichen house culminated in the sound of her boots slamming down the halls of the clinic. She fumbled with the door handle of the bathroom and burst inside. Jules leaned over the toilet and wretched, nothing came up. Her blood boiled with panic and rage and fear. That’s when it occurred to Jules that she had eaten almost nothing in the past two days. She’d been surviving on stolen sips of water, a few granola bars, a pizza pocket she’d eaten at Allison’s and adrenaline. Jules leaned back against the wall and shivered, hoping that she could carry the weight of her world for just a bit longer. Lydia appeared at her side and Isaac in the doorway. Lydia’s hand was light on Jules’s shoulder and Jules leaned back and stared up at the fluorescent light.

_What if I can’t bring him back? What if Allison and Scott come back but not him? What am I supposed to do then? What am I supposed to say?_

Jules hung her head and hoped that she would panic; she hoped that her heart would race and her breathing would freeze but she couldn’t. Something inside of her had frozen. There was no panic, no adrenaline, there was only exhaustion and the crushing feeling that the world was ending. Her mother was on a war path, her friends were dead and their parents were as good as. There was someone in town who knew too much and men across the county who thought of it all and smiled. Jules was aware of a phone ringing and Lydia sighing exasperatedly. In a moment she was gone from the room. Isaac slid down on the floor next to her, their shoulders brushing. Isaac was silent. This might have been what Jules needed. He turned towards the door and tensed. The movement drew her eyes. He looked focused, intense.

“There’s a car pulling into the lot.” He said worriedly and stood up. Jules did the same, her back and shoulders cracked as she did. Isaac cringed.

The two of them met Deaton in the hallway and stared out the door as Lydia argued with her mother. Jules furrowed her brow in confusion and nudged Isaac. “What are they saying?” She asked him, unable to fathom any reason that Natalie Martin would be asked here by Lydia. Isaac narrowed his eyes and leaned against the door of the clinic.

“She’s saying that she needs a good explanation for this, that it was hard enough to talk her way into that house let alone get Charlotte to leave the room.” He told her. Jules frowned and watched as Natalie handed her daughter a plastic grocery bag and begrudgingly got back into her car. “She’s asking Lydia why you haven’t been home.” Isaac sounded concerned.

Jules sighed. “Well what’s she doing?” She muttered.

“She’s lying.” Isaac stated.

The two of them darted away and almost slammed into Deaton as Lydia came back into the clinic. She shoved the plastic bag at Jules. “You take these tomorrow morning or I swear to god…” She warned, her eyes widening with the promised threat of anger.

Jules peered into the bag. Inside was her medication. “Lydia?” Jules’s head snapped up to meet her friend’s eyes. “Thanks.” She said with a small smile.

Lydia returned the look and raised her eyebrows. “Emotional tether?” She asked incredulously. “Just when did that happen?” There was a hint of humor in her voice, just enough to cover up the seriousness of her question.

_Is she wondering if I’m growing as a person or whatever? Moving past from what happened to me?_

Jules's hands tremored.

_There’s no moving on if that’s what she thinks. There’s never going to be a day where I don’t wake up to the feeling of someone else’s hand on my skin or_   _the uncomfortable tug of my hair. There is never going to be a day where I walk into a room and all eyes are on me and I’m not reminded of what it feels like to be on display. What I get to do is learn to want things for myself._

Jules shot Lydia a well-meaning glare and pushed the feeling of the kiss from her mind and body. “Ah,” She mused. “Lydia Martin, now is not the time.”

Lydia rolled her eyes and Isaac smirked. “I’m going to order some pizzas.” He said flatly. “What do you guys want?” He pulled out his cellphone.

Jules slumped into one of the chairs in the waiting room. “Cheese or veg.” She mumbled. “No meat.” Lydia nodded and sat down next to Jules.

“Do you want to go back in there?” She whispered to Jules and flicked her eyes to the exam room.

Jules shook her head. “No.” Her voice was hardly audible. “Not yet.”

* * *

 

By mid-next day Jules was losing her mind. Allison, Scott and Stiles weren’t supposed to stay under for so long. Only Lydia and Deaton held out on the small hope that they’d wake before the eclipse or that they’d wake at all. Jules paced back and forth, Isaac did the same. All of them had been silent since they’d woken up that morning. The only real interaction Jules had had with any of them was making a point to take her medication in front of Lydia. Her eyes were set on the tubs, for any sign of a stir from her friends. There was nothing. Not a twitch, not a bubble to indicate that they were alive. Deaton insisted that they were. Jules was tempted to take a pulse but decided against it. She feared disturbing whatever supernatural force that held her friend’s lives in the balance.

_Two months ago there was no such thing as werewolves. Two months ago I was in Eichen House. Two months ago Juliet Hayes was dead to the world. What a simpler time it was._

Jules had done and redone her braids out of boredom, laced and re-laced her boots, twirled and twirled Allison’s knife. It was all she could do. Make sure she was ready for what may come. Make sure she was ready to jump into action if her friends ever woke. Be sure to be available to them, with all her focus for them. Jules had left her phone off. It had been off since the day of the recital. It seemed like forever ago. The deputy she had assaulted had told her that Charlotte and Noah were considering reporting her missing. Jules didn’t care. McCall had seen her, Natalie knew she was okay and the Sheriff’s department had to be in shambles in search of Stilinski.

_How long do we wait until we let them go?_

Her eyes burned and she tore them away from the quiet tubs. Jules glanced at Lydia; she was half asleep on the floor. She’d been there for the entire night. Jules had slept next to her, in hopes of bringing some kind of comfort to both of them. 

She opened her mouth to say something to Lydia but was cut off by abrupt splashing and gasping. Jules almost screamed out of shear relief. The three of them raced to face their sputtering friends. Jules’s heart leapt into her throat as she took in the sight of them. A wide and stunned smile crept onto her face.

_They aren’t dead._

“I saw it! I know where it is!” Scott shouted as he climbed out of the tank. 

Jules's heart beat with anticipation.

“We passed it there’s this stump, this huge tree. Well, it’s not huge anymore. It was cut down.” Stiles said through his shivering and clambered out of the water. “But it’s still very big though very big.” He pressed. Jules avoid looking anywhere but his face. She didn't want to know what he looked like with his t-shirt sticking to him, because Scott looked great.

“It was the night we were looking for the body.” Scott exclaimed.

“Yeah the same night you were bit by Peter.” Stiles added.

_Full circle. Weird._

“I was there too, in the car with my mother.” Allison half shouted. “We almost hit someone.”

A look of realization passed over Scott and he turned to her. “It was me. You almost hit me.”

“We can find it.” Scott said in an assured voice.

Jules could have jumped for joy but the serious atmosphere was killing her mood. She turned to Isaac, Lydia and Deaton. “Guys this is good, have a little optimism.” She hissed.

Stiles shot her a look of disbelief. She could almost hear him say it.

_“You? An optimist?”_

“What?” Allison asked them, shivering.

“You guys were out a long time.” Isaac said in a low voice.

“How long is a long time?” Stiles asked them, glancing nervously at Scott.

“Sixteen hours.” Deaton said stiffly.

“We’ve been in the water for sixteen hours?” Scott asked in a pained voice.

“And the full moon rises in less than four.” Deaton said to them. Delivering the final swift kick to the gut they all needed. Jules clapped her hands together.

“Well, now that that’s been established, thanks for not staying dead.” She said lightly.

Allison let out a soundless laugh. “Yeah.” She huffed. “No problem.”

* * *

 

“No, dude, you are not going back with them.” Stiles insisted, still unable to wrap his head around the reality of the situation.

_I was dead for sixteen hours. I... was dead... for sixteen hours..._

He pushed that thought away; he’d deal with it later.

“I made a deal with Deucalion.” Scott reiterated.

“Does anyone else think that sounds a lot like a deal with the devil?” Stiles asked the room. His eyes fell on Jules; Stiles raised his eyebrows at her.

_What? No sarcastic retort?_

She said nothing and instead passed Allison’s jacket back to her.

“Why does it matter, anyway?” Isaac asked Scott.

“Because, I still don’t think that we can beat Jennifer without their help.” Scott admitted.

 “He trusts you more than anyone, tell him he’s wrong.” Allison urged Deaton.

“I’m not so sure he is.” Deaton said to her, his eyes on Scott. “Circumstances like this sometimes require that you align yourself with people you’d normally consider enemies.” He told him.

 “The enemy of my enemy is my friend.” Jules sighed.

“So we’re gonna trust him?” Isaac asked in disbelief. “The guy that calls himself death, destroyer of worlds? Were gonna trust that guy?”

“You know he stole that line from the guy who made the first atom bomb.” Jules cut in with an anecdote and then pressed her lips together. Stiles guessed she was telling herself to shut up.

Deaton’s eyes flicked to her and then back to Isaac. “I wouldn’t trust him, no, but you could use him to your advantage.” He pointed out to Scott. “Deucalion may be the enemy but he could also be the bait.”

The room fell quiet after that. Stiles could see gears turning in Jules’s head. “Derek’s life is on the line as well.” She said with finality to her tone. “We need leverage, as much or as little as we can get.”

Before anyone could reply they heard the clinic door swing open. Jules followed Deaton out of the room.

“I’m looking for Lydia.” Stiles heard a voice say, one of the twins.

“Go look in hell. And once you get there, stay there.” Jules snapped at him. He was shocked by how easily he recognized her voice now, usually bitter with the tiniest bit of a New York accent, that came out strongly when she shouted. 

_"Stiles look at me."_

She hadn't sounded bitter then.

Lydia and the others trickled into the room. Stiles saw Jules put herself in front of Lydia. Lydia nudged Jules out of her way. “What do you want?” She asked shortly.

“I need your help.” He said to her.

Stiles’s eyes were caught by a twitch in Jules’s hand, a flicker of movement towards the hem of her shirt, under which she must have still had the knife.

“With what?” He pressed and slid into to doorway.

“Stopping my brother and Kali… from killing Derek.” Ethan said in a flat voice. Jules looked incredulous.

“That sounds like your problem, not ours. We have enough of our own.” Her voice was even. “No thanks to you.” She muttered hotly. Ethan glared daggers at Jules. Lydia sighed.

“Fine.” She huffed and grabbed Jules’s hand. “But she’s coming.”

Both Ethan and Jules looked furious but Jules was pulled reluctantly forward by Lydia. Before reaching the door both girls turn around.

“Try not to die.” Jules said in a heartfelt voice, her eyes flicked to Stiles and then she turned around. Lydia sighed.

“Jules.” She muttered as they left.

Stiles stared after them as the others began talking again, planning again. Where to go, when to go there, what to do. He wondered if she looked at him differently now. She had made the choice to kiss him, but did she a pay a price to do it?

* * *

 

Jules paced slowly behind Ethan as he spoke to Derek. Her body thrummed with restless energy. Food and limited sleep had done wonders, as did the ticking of the clock. She knew that by the next morning they would have either won or lost everything, and that was oddly comforting. All she had to do was fight with tooth and nail for one night and then deal with the aftermath. Lydia’s phone buzzed and she checked it, after a moment she held it out to Jules. It was from Stiles, explaining how to get to the nemeton through the preserve. She understood the directions; she just didn’t want to go there. Any place with Blake or Deucalion in the immediate vicinity was not a place Jules wanted to be.

“We know about the lunar eclipse, so don’t think Kali’s gonna sit around waiting for it to level the playing field. She’s coming and my brother is coming with her.” Ethan said candidly to the Hales.

_And we are gonna be here when she does. Why? Why would I agree to this?_

“Good enough for me.” Peter said with a small nod. “Derek?”

‘You want me to run?” Derek asked in an irritated voice. Jules and Lydia shared a look of disbelief.

_Yeah, obviously we want you to run._

“No. I want you to stay and get slaughtered by an alpha with a psychotic foot fetish.” Peter deadpanned and walked up to his nephew. “Of course I want you to run.” He snapped.

“Running is always the healthiest choice. You can work on your cardio while you evade death.” Jules quipped.

Peter gestured to Jules and then back to Derek. “Sprint, gallop, leap your way the hell out of this town.” Peter urged.

“DC is supposed to be lovely this time of year.” Jules offered. Lydia shot her a look that told Jules she wasn’t being helpful.

“If you want to fight and die for something, that’s fine with me.” Cora said in a low voice. “But do it for something meaningful.” Cora’s eyes flicked away from Derek to Jules and Jules looked away from her.

_Yeah we get it. I make poor decisions. Whatever. You also throw yourself at people who want you dead._

Jules glared at Cora.

_Hypocrite._

“How do you know I’m gonna lose?” He asked them in a slightly cocky voice. Jules rolled her eyes.

“We don’t.” Peter said and his eyes fell on Lydia. Jules felt the urge to step in front of her friend and hide her from his gaze but she stayed where he was. “But I’ll bet she has an idea.” Peter stepped towards her and stared at Lydia intently. “Don’t you Lydia?”

Rage prickled Jules’s skin and she fought every instinct she had that was telling her to shove Peter away. Lydia was very quiet for a moment, a haunted look passed over her face.

“I don’t know anything.” She told him.

Peter stepped closer to her, “But you feel something, don’t you?”

_You’re gonna feel a knife between your ribs in a minute if you don’t step off._

Jules stared lividly at Peter. Shoving her fear away and replacing it with enraged disgust.

“What do you feel?” Derek asked her.

Jules’s eyes flicked to Lydia and she walked to her side, her eyes trained intently on her thoughtful friend.

“I feel like…” She said softly. “I’m standing in a graveyard.” Her voice wavered. Half of Jules wanted nothing more than to take her friend and leave. She wanted to let the werewolves deal with their business on their own. The other part of her knew she couldn’t do that, and that Lydia wouldn't let her. Jules clenched her jaw as grim determination settled over her in place of anything else.

_There’s too much at stake to be afraid._

“So.” She looked irritably to Derek. “Are you gonna go now?”

* * *

 

Jules rummaged around the loft and came across a discarded broken pipe that was covered in dried blood. “You know what? I don’t even wanna know.” She muttered as she picked it up by the clean side.

“And what are you going to do with that?” Ethan asked her, his face the picture of disbelief.

Jules swung it around and jabbed at the air. “Some impaling, should it come to it.” She said lightly.

_Well, no. Absolutely not. I’ve gotta draw a line in somewhere. Am I willing to create a werewolf kebab? No. No, I am not._

The alarm began to blare and Jules raced to Lydia’s side, wielding her pipe like a baseball bat. In a split second the loft door was wrenched open and the alarm kicked off of the wall. Kali glared at them.

“Where is he?” She asked impatiently.

Ethan, Jules and Lydia feigned confusion. Lydia snapped her fingers.

“I think he said he was heading out to do some shopping?” She turned to Ethan. “Run a few errands, the usual, werewolf afternoon.” She said as calmly as she could.

Jules clucked her tongue. “Werewolf evening really, up to the usual boring to do’s.” She droned whilst tightening her grip on her pipe.

Kali paced in front of them. The twins sent enraged looks at each other. “Who do you think you’re talking to?” She growled at them.

“Someone in desperate need of a pedicure.” Lydia said, her arms crossed over her chest. “I’d be happy to give you a referral.” She offered sarcastically.

“And some anger management.” Jules added. “Although, you’ll have to find that on your own.” She spat.

Kali continued to step towards the three of them and Aiden let out a growl. Jules frowned and directed her confusion at Ethan, he wasn’t paying attention to her, his eyes were on his brother.

“Oh really?” Kali asked Aiden darkly.

Aiden growled in response.

Fiery rage and fear coursed through Jules’s veins, her body tensed in anticipation of fight or flight. She had no idea what was about to happen, but she guessed she wouldn’t like it.

Kali walked up to Aiden. “Did someone take their little assignment too seriously?” She asked him mockingly.

_Great. Order teenagers to sleep with other teenagers. That’s not sickening at all._

Kali paced around a vicious looking Aiden. “She is not the problem.” His was strained with anger.

“Maybe the problem is where your loyalties lie.” Kali said in a low voice.

“Oh god.” Lydia sighed. “Is this about to get really violent?” She asked. Jules knew it was a rhetorical question, the answer was obvious.

“Probably.” Aiden muttered.

“Werewolf thunderdome.” She whispered with a small smirk. Lydia opened her mouth to speak but the roof above them caved in. Sending glass flying in all directions and towards the ground. Lydia and Jules let both let screams and Ethan grabbed both girls and pulled them from the center of the room. The pipe dropped with a clatter from Jules’s hand.

Jennifer Blake rose to stand in front of Kali and Aiden. Jules’s heart hammered in her throat and she let out another scream, this one out of utter frustration.

* * *

 “So, who wants to go first?” Blake asked furiously.

Jules struggled to free herself from the arms of Ethan and Lydia. “I would like to go! I would like to leave!” She shouted over her heavy breaths. She jerked back, closer to Lydia when Kali lunged at Blake. Jules clutched Lydia and watched with wide eyes as the two woman fought.

_If they kill each other it’s a win win._

In another second Kali was thrown across the room and Blake rounded on Aiden. As his brother was tossed to the ground Ethan lunged to his feet and ripped his shirt off in the process. Jules watched in mild disgust as the twins began to meld, only to be ripped apart and forced into the walls. Jules and Lydia shot to their feet and Jules yanked the knife from her sheath. She ignored all of her previous practice and accidently landed a shallow slice along the length of her abdomen. She wined in pain and raised her weapon. She stood side by side with Lydia as Kali once again tossed herself at her old emissary.

_They loved each other, and now they’re trying to kill each other._

Jules felt a pang of pain her chest for the two of them, mostly for Blake. The woman had been torn apart and hadn’t been able to push through it. Kali and Jennifer stared at each other.

“That’s right Kali, look at me. Look at my face.” She said darkly. “Do you know what it takes to be able to look like this? To be able to look normal?” Her voice rose.

“I don’t care.” Kali told her.

Jules and Lydia intertwined hands, preparing themselves for whatever horror might come next.

“It takes power.” Blake said in a dangerous voice. “Power like this.” She threatened and raised her hands. The glass on the floor began to rise into the air. A look of fear passed over Kali’s face.

“I- I should’ve…” She began as the points of the shards turned towards her. “I SHOULD’VE RIPPED YOUR HEAD OFF!” She roared and the shards flew and hit home, driving into Kali's body.

  Lydia gasped and Jules stayed quiet, she simply turned her head away and tightened her hold on Allison’s dagger. 

Kali’s body fell to the ground with a soft thud. Blake turned slowly around to face Lydia and Jules. Jules’s eyes flicked between the body of Kali and to the still very alive Lydia. She put herself between the Darach and the Banshee, forcing Lydia against the table. She held a hard and furious gaze on Blake. A stirring of movement caught her eyes. The twins, back on their feet and successfully one wolf came at Blake. But in one swift and ruthless motion Blake had snapped the neck of the wolf. The twins went crashing to the floor as one, black blood dripping from their mouth. Lydia’s chest heaved and Jules looked away from them, her mouth was a bitter and hard line. But before Jules could make one foolish move Blake had seized her by the neck and raised her off of the ground. Her neck and screamed in agony and black dots floated into her vision. Jules choked and gasped for air.

_Less pleasant then drowning._

Jules didn’t feel Blake’s hand on her neck but somebody else’s, her eyes burned as tears rolled down her face.

_This is it, isn’t it?_

“If all else fail, myself have power to die.” Blake quoted again. Thunder and lightning cracked overhead like a symphony. Jules brought the knife across Blake’s arm but the cut healed as soon as in was inflicted. Jules felt her hands go weak and the blade slipped from her fingers. Jules sputtered and fought to stay awake. She could hear Blake talking and she could see the blurry and blue outline of Lydia, being shoved back by some invisible force. Jules feebly kicked out a Blake, determined to save Lydia. Should that be the last thing she ever does. But with one final weak swing of her leg the world went black.

 


	19. Lunar Eclipse II

** Chapter Nineteen – Lunar Eclipse II **

Lydia watched in pained horror as Blake tossed an unconscious Jules onto the floor and sent her rolling through the remaining glass. She came to a stop on her back next to the bloody body of Kali. Lydia froze at the sight of Jules’s still body. Blake’s eyes flicked to her. And Lydia made a small but furious noise. Blake smirked.

“Her refusal to die is admirable; but even our heroes fall.” Blake said smoothly. 

_I'd know if she was dead, wouldn't I?_

Lydia backed against the pillar, terror and worry zipping through her body. “What do you want from me?” She said in a small and terrified voice.

“I want you to do what you do best, Lydia.” Blake stepped closer, Lydia tried to keep from crying. “I want you to scream.”

* * *

 

Derek and Cora burst into the loft. Derek hadn’t been sure what he’d expected but it wasn’t so many dead bodies. Or to see Jennifer standing there like she hadn’t just killed three people. His eyes fell on Jules as Cora ran to Lydia’s side. He could hear her heartbeat, it was strong but slow. There was a dark handprint on her neck. Derek looked from Jules to Lydia and back to Jennifer. The two teenagers didn’t have what it took to prevent Darachs or alpha werewolves from doing anything, and yet they’d tried and he had let them.

“You did this for me?” Derek asked Blake incredulously and walked past her to the young woman on the floor.

“For us.” Jennifer insisted. Her eyes tracked him. “For anyone who’s ever been their victim.”

_And what about your victims?_

Derek could feel Lydia and Cora watch him as he picked up Jules. Her blonde hair was coming out of its braids and spilling over his arms, reminding him of Erica. The thought of her sent a painful jolt of guilt and grief into his chest.

“Stop talking to me like a politician.” He snapped at her as he laid Jules down on the table. Derek waked carefully towards Jennifer. “Stop trying to convince me of your cause!” He shouted.

Jules’s heartbeat quickened.

“Fine.” Blake said indignantly. “I’ll convince you of someone else’s. Scott.”

Derek was silent.

“You can save his mother, Stiles’s father.” She offered.

“How?” He demanded, out of the corner of his eye he saw his sister and Lydia move to the table. Cora now stood protective over both of them. Jules was stirring.

“I need a guardian.” Blake began to walk towards him. “And that’s a role that can either be filled by the three parents I was forced to take, or by you.”

Derek scowled, he didn’t believe her, and she didn’t make any sense. “I can’t help you. I’m not even an alpha anymore.”

“All I need is for you to help me get Deucalion on the right place at the right time.” She bargained with him.

“You just killed three of them on your own.” He said to her. “What do you need me for?” Derek knew he was taunting her but it didn’t matter. Any moment she was with him, were moments she wasn’t killing anyone’s parents, their talking seemed like a fair trade off.

“You haven’t seen him at his strongest. I have.” She assured. “And if he’s got Scott with him, I don’t stand a chance unless I have you.”

“Derek.” Cora’s harsh voice cut between them. “Don’t trust her.”

“I have the eclipse in my favor, but the moon’s only going to be in the earth’s umbral shadow for fifteen minutes. That’s the extent of my window.” She sounded almost desperate.

“Throw yourself out of a window.” Jules groggily added her own two cents to the conversation. Jennifer rolled her eyes.

“There’s no decision to struggle with. Help me kill him and the others live!” Her voice had risen into a shout. “Just help me!” She pleaded.

“Assisted suicide? Sure.” Jules cut in again.

Lydia shushed her friend. “Brain to mouth filter?” She muttered desperately. 

“Lack of oxygen.” Jules’s voice was clearer, steadier.

Derek raised his eyes to meet Jennifer’s. Could she be right? Was it the best chance to save the sacrifices and stop Deucalion. Derek didn’t say anything, his silence said enough. Jennifer gave him a small smile and walked past him out of the loft. Derek cast another glance at his forlorn sister and followed Jennifer out of the door.

* * *

 

Jules sat up, everything quickly coming back into clarity; she rolled off of the table and to her feet. Cora and Lydia steadied her.

“I can stand on my own.” She told them, she was right. Jules bent and picked up the dropped knife. She tried not to wince as she did so. Dozens of little cuts littered her body, cuts from the glass. She was bleeding all over.

_Am I going to need to get a tetanus shot? Nah._

Jules stood back up and wiped the blade on Allison’s leggings. Lydia and Cora were silent. Jules turned around to face them only be attacked with a tight hug from Lydia. “I thought you were dead.” She whispered as she tried to steady her breathing but sobs were wracking her body. “You looked really dead.” Lydia clutched Jules and Jules did the same for her friend. Her bruised and raw hands looked foreign on the soft fabric of Lydia’s dress. Jules thought of her friends searching in the middle of the woods for a dead tree and their lost parents, Scott fighting along a man he must have despised.

_If Scott was capable of hate he would hate Deucalion._

“I need your car keys.” Jules said timidly. Lydia jerked back.

“You can drive?” She was astonished. “When did you learn to drive? And no, you can't have them.” Lydia was adamant.

Cora stared at Jules. “You don’t have a license, do you?” It didn’t sound like a question. Jules nodded with enthusiasm and kept her hands on Lydia’s shoulders.

“I’ll find them.” She stated. “You really can’t stop me.” Jules was buzzing with nervous energy.

Lydia sighed in defeat of an argument she hadn't started but couldn't win. She jerked her head to the corner where she had ditched her purse.

“I can’t believe her.” She muttered to Cora as Jules sprinted to the bag and rifled through it.

“I heard that!” She shouted at them and then bolted for the door. “And yes, I can drive!”

“Jules!” Lydia called after her; there was something desperate in her voice, something that made Jules stop and turn around. “Be careful.” Lydia said painfully. Like it hurt her to need to say the words.

“I always am.” Jules said guilelessly.

Lydia pursed her lips. “Don’t lie; it’s unbecoming of a modern woman.” She said in a strained voice.

_First night I came back you said that. Do you think this is the last time you could see me? Is that why?_

Jules’s heart sank and her stomach was in knots. She didn’t know what to say in response; only that she had to say something, maybe what she should be saying all the time. Since she never knew when things could go wrong. Her eyes flicked to the body of the twins. When the most recent thing she’d said to someone became the last. “Lydia, I love you.” Jules’s eyes flicked to Cora. “If something happens and you didn’t die protecting her, I’ll kill you.”

Cora shot Jules a glare alongside a nod. “Go. We’ll deal with this.” She looked around the destroyed loft.

Jules cast one last sorrowful glance at Lydia and then turned around and ran for the stairs. She heard Lydia’s voice echo behind her. “I love you to.”

* * *

 

The raging storm was detrimental to Jules’s almost non-existent driving or directional skills. But Stiles had made it seem simple enough to find the road that led into the preserve. At least it would have been without the wind and the rain. Jules sped down the road and wondered why she was doing what she was doing.

_I didn’t have to leave the loft. I could have stayed and not have had to deal with figuring out to start Lydia’s stupid car. Or how sensitive these goddamn brake pads were, like what kind of properly maintained vehicle is this? Do they need me out here? Or am I gonna just end up lost in the woods like some idiot? I know the concrete jungle, not the actual jungle._

Jules stopped and realized that she had been talking out loud to herself.

“I’m losing it.” She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. “I am going out of my freaking mind.” She muttered and rounded a corner. Jules’s heart leapt into her throat and she slammed on the breaks, causing her seatbelt to nearly choke her. Her neck screamed with pain. There was a lit up silhouette ahead of her, one of a car, a jeep to be exact. Jules frantically shut off Lydia’s car and tossed the keys into the passenger seat. She threw the door open and slammed it with ferocity behind her. There was no mistaking it as she peered through the violent storm and her heart pounded like a jackhammer in her chest. That was Stiles’s jeep, crumpled into a tree.

* * *

 

Stiles was very aware of loud noises and not much else. He thought for a moment that he should open his eyes but the idea disappeared as soon as it came. Being half unconscious had certain benefits, he didn’t have to think or feel anything. His father wasn’t about to be sacrifice, he hadn’t spent sixteen hours frozen in a vat of herb water and people weren’t dropping like flies. A storm raged around him and his ears rung, he was used to those sounds now. But something else had joined the fray, something that sounded like a scream. He wondered how someone could be screaming if he was alone in the middle of woods. But the sounds were unmistakable. A strangled and rough cry of his name with an east coast twang heavily attached.

_Jules._

Stiles cracked his eyes open as something hit his side.

“Stiles!” Her voice was broken and rough.

_Is she crying?_

Stiles peered at her and wondered if it was day break, if he could see the sun rising. But the spot of gold he had seen disappeared in a second. It had just been Jules’s blonde head, illuminated by a halo of lightning cracking in the sky. Her hands slid to the side of his face, her palms were soft, unscarred, unlike her fingers and the backs of her hands. His eyes focused on her, she was kneeling over him, poised next to him on the seat.

_She hit my side. Not something, she rammed into me, getting into the car._

Stiles cracked a small and dreamy smile and wondered how she could be so uncoordinated. She called his name again, she sounded shattered.

Stiles's eyes flew open, focusing on her face. She was cloaked in shadows and then illuminated by the random lightning strikes of the storm but he could still see her. It hadn’t taken Stiles long to be able to pick her face out of a crowded hallway and not long after he had her face memorized. From what little he could tell from her expression she was relieved, elated even. There was a wide and honest smile on her face, along with blood.

“Hey.” He said abruptly and leaned forward, knocking his head with hers. Pain travelled in waves down his spine.

Jules muttered something he couldn’t hear and checked the wound on his temple. “You scared the shit out of me.” She said through an exhale.

He looked her over, there were dark marks all over her neck and she was covered in small cuts. Anger surged in his chest, dragging Stiles further into consciousness. There were several cuts on her face, beads of blood collected on her cheek.  Stiles felt compelled to reach out and wipe them away, to hold her face in the same way she held his. He wanted to ask, ‘Could I?’ Stiles stayed quiet and stared open mouthed at her. Something terrible must have happened at the loft and yet she’d still come to find him. Her hands trailed down and rested on his shoulders, her eyes were locked on his, burning with some emotion he couldn’t identify.

“Can you move?” She asked him in a breathy voice, the shelter of the jeep isolating them from the howl of the wind.

Stiles nodded and she got off of the seat and tumbled out of the car. Stiles scrambled after her, she grabbed one of his arms and put it around her shoulders to steady him.

“We can take Lydia’s car!” She shouted.

Stiles shook his head, “I know where we are!” He looked around the woods. “It’s faster to walk!”

Jules nodded and gestured towards the dark expanse of woods. “Lead the way!”

Stiles stopped, feeling like he was forgetting something.

_Bat._

He turned and pulled himself back into the car and reached into the backseat, yanking out the metal bat. Jules came back to his side and raised her eyebrows at him and flicked her eyes to the forest. “Lead the way now?!” She asked, her could hear the joke in her voice and see the ghost of a smile on her face. But her voice was rough and shaking. Stiles nodded and grabbed her hand intertwining her shaking and bruised fingers with his, and the two of them ran stumbling into the dark.

* * *

 

Jules and Stiles sprinted through the trees; he ran just ahead of her, his hand pulling her behind him. Her feet were hard on the ground, she felt it as the leaves became hard packed dirt and Stiles stopped. She ran into him.

“What? What is it?” She asked him urgently.

He was looking around wildly and mumbling to himself, he looked far away, lost in memory. Lost in the night that he and Scott’s lives changed forever. Jules wondered if he ever thought about it. What would have happened if they hadn’t gone out? Jules did that. She wondered what would have changed if they’d gone to New York a day earlier or later. Or if she’d left for the bodega just five minutes later then she had.

_Does he lay awake and wish that he hadn’t cared about the half of a girl in the woods? Does he wish that he hadn’t let Scott go home alone? Does he wish he could go back and change it?_

She filed the questions away to ask another time. Jules watched as his eyes darted around the woods and in a second they were running again. Her chest heaved and screamed in pain she did her best to ignore it. She tried her best to block out the crack and fizz of lightning over head as she tripped over her feet and wished that she was any place else.

_I could’ve left this all alone. I didn’t have to get involved. I don’t have to be here._

Stiles stopped her Jules’s eyes darted around, they settled on an enormous tree stump about ten feet ahead of them. She looked up at Stiles and the desperate relief on his face.

_That’s why. What’s why I got involved. To help._

They sprinted around the tree, only to slide on the loose earth. They both went crashing to the ground. Jules screamed and rolled to the side as the ground crumbled beneath her. She scrambled to her hands and knees and Stiles pushed himself back. Her heart hammered, she grabbed onto to Stiles and pushed herself to her feet, taking him with her. Stiles stared helplessly at the crumbling earth, his bat dangling in his hand. Jules tried to force down the sick feeling that it might be too late. She looked up at the sky and saw the moon darken.

“The eclipse.” She muttered.

_Isaac, if he’s down there and trying to hold it up he’s powerless._

Jules grabbed Stiles’s hand and looked to a hole in the ground about ten feet from them. And without a word they ran for it.

* * *

 

Stiles and Jules slide down under the earth; he shoved his bat under part of the collapsing cellar, holding it in place. The ground of them turned to look at them, Stiles moved away from Stiles as he and father stared at each other. She felt like an intruder.

“I always said aluminum was better than wood.” Stilinski said.

Stiles attacked his father with a hug and Jules looked away, her eyes stung with tears and dirt. The ground continued to pour in from outside and Jules ducked away from the hole. She pushed herself up against one of the few remaining walls of the cellar, next to Isaac. He was soaked with sweat. Jules shot him a soft smile. He responded with a look of terror in his eyes.

“It’s fine.” She said in as steady and strong of a voice she could muster. “We’re gonna be fine.” Her heart hammered and the bitter taste of fear was sharp on her tongue.

“Think so?” He said in a small voice. “Cause right now I can’t tell if you’re lying.”

_No I don’t. We’re going to die down here._

“Yeah.” She looked around the cellar. Allison was right by her father’s side; Melissa knelt next to Stiles and his father. She caught Stiles's eye, he shot her a worried look and his eyes darted to the collapsing roof. Everyone looked terrified. Jules looked back up at Isaac. “We are all going to be fine.”

* * *

 

Stiles could hardly believe it when the storm came to an end.

“Is it over?” Allison gasped.

_Yeah. It’s over._

His father began to laugh and Stiles hugged him again. His phone buzzed and Stiles’s heart leapt into his throat.

“Scott?” He asked urgently as he answered.

“Hey.” His best friend’s voice came casually over the phone. “Are you okay?”

Stiles’s eyes flicked around the cellar with a look of mild disbelief. “Yeah were okay. We’re all okay.”

Melissa was smiling but Allison just looked subdued. Jules peeked around Isaac’s shoulder and smiled at him. Stiles wanted badly to pull her towards him and marvel in the fact that all of them, including her and her poor judgement had managed not to die.

“How about you, you okay?” Stiles asked Scott. And for a moment there was silence on Scott’s end of the line.

“Sort of.” Scott said evenly.

“You think you could come get us?” Stiles’s eyes darted around what was a root cellar.

“Yeah, of course.” Scott answered like it shouldn’t have been a question.

“Great, okay. Um, uh, bring a ladder.” He told him.

The other’s laughed and Scott hung up the phone. “Guy,s I’m not joking.” Stiles deadpanned.

“We know.” Melissa huffed, Allison looked at Jules.

“Tell me that isn’t your blood.” She said exasperatedly.

Jules smirked. “I can neither confirm nor de-”

“Hilarious.” Stiles cut her off and she shot him a sardonic grin, Stiles stared blankly at her.

“How are you not dead?” He muttered to himself and his father caught his eyes. “What?” He asked him flatly.

The Sheriff shook his head and smiled at his son, his hand was tight on his shoulder. “Nothing Stiles.” The Sheriff’s eyes flicked to Jules, she was picking glass out of her hair and bickering with Allison. “Nothing at all.”

Stiles glared at his father and pointed at him. “I know what you’re thinking. Stop.” He said under his breathe.

The Sheriff just cracked a smile.

* * *

 

The next morning Jules stood on the end of her street, Lydia by her side, hand in hand.

“Are you sure you want to do this alone?” Lydia asked softly.

Jules knew what she was actually asking.

_Are you sure you can?_

Jules nodded and pulled uncomfortably at the turtle neck she’d burrowed from Allison. “This feels like it’s choking me.” She muttered.

“Someone did choke you.” Lydia said bitterly.

_Wouldn't be the first time._

Jules just shrugged. "Someone tried to choke you to."

Her body ached and she felt defeated by exhaustion. “Blake is dead. Deucalion is gone. It’s over.”

Lydia stared off into the distance, towards the woods. “We said that last time.” She said wearily.

Jules sighed in response and began walking towards her home, her fingers trailing from Lydia’s hand as she went.

* * *

 

Jules’s nausea grew and grew as she approached her home, every step she took up to her porch felt like agony. Her borrowed clothes and dirty boots weighed her down and the creaks of her porch sent stabs of terror through her. Jules nearly screamed when the door of her home opened and she was faced with agent McCall. Jules blanched at him.

“What are you doing here?” She asked more harshly then she’d intended to.

Memories of the discomfort of interrogation flooded her mind, Jules held them back along with everything she wanted to scream at him.

_Why would you give me your stupid sweater, a stupid hug, tell me everything is going to be okay and then let your stupid agent friends treat me like dirt? What made you think that was okay?_

“You father and I were just explaining to your mother that you were helping with the search for Sheriff Stilinksi and Melissa McCall.” He said smoothly. It was a tone that made her want to punch him.

_“Your father and I” What?_

“I didn’t think that you should be punished for doing the right thing.” He told her.

Jules glowered at him.

_Is this guy for real? No way._

“Why?" She was indignant "Why do you think that?” Jules snapped at him as he walked past her and down the steps of her porch.

“Because you’re a good kid. Someone else might get off easy by comparison.” McCall turned back around, an apologetic look on his face. “I do think you were trying to help Stiles and my son. But I also think you’re hiding something.” His tone was even and slightly patronizing, anger boiled in her blood.

Jules didn’t face him; she just turned her head enough to see him from the corner of her eye. Realization dawned on her as McCall began to walk away. “If you’re trying to get in good with Scott by doing his friends favors, you can forget it.” Jules to face him head on, looking down disdainfully at him from her porch. “Scott grew up better without you then he would have with you.” She said candidly. “He doesn’t need your charity, and neither do I.” Her voice was steady and low. And without so much as another glance at the FBI agent, Jules yanked open her door and stepped inside.

* * *

 

 The moment Jules crossed the threshold into her home she was immediately engulfed by her father in a hug. Jules winced.

“I told you to join the search and I took your phone because it was dead, it’s at the station. I knew where you were the whole time. I brought you the meds.” He whispered their lie rapidly to her and his eyes flicked to the plastic bag in her hand.

Jules nodded numbly. Noah let go of her as Charlotte burst into the room and completely ignored her husband. She yanked her daughter into a tight embrace. Jules squirmed in discomfort and reciprocated the gesture; she shot her father a look of thanks. He gave her a warm smile and took the bag from her hand. Charlotte kissed the side of her daughter’s head where a raised fresh scar from the motel sat. Jules wondered how many new white lines where going to dot her body, from the scalpels and glass and knives. She wondered what the future held.

_The trial._

Jules felt hollow as her mother let go of her.

“I’m sure you need a shower and a long rest.” Charlotte said in a sickly sweet voice. “But, Erin came by earlier, she said she left something on your desk for you. She said she’ll be out of town until the trial.”

Jules huffed.

_Whatever. I can’t talk to her about half of my problems right now anyway._

Jules trudged up the stairs and into her bedroom, swinging the door shut behind her. She could hear Charlotte’s harsh voice and the softer one of her father. There were a few pamphlets and a folded piece of paper on her desk. Tiredly, Jules sat down at it and unfolded the letter.

**_Hi Jules,_ **

**_I have a friend who runs a sexual assault survivors group in Los Angeles and the next time we meet I want to talk to you about speaking at this group. Maybe we could drive up one weekend or on your winter break? I think that you have a lot of potential to be incredibly inspirational to a lot of people._ **

_Is this why you’ve spent the last three weeks giving me motivational speeches? Do I strike you as preachy? You know I hate talking about this._

**_You show a lot of strength and perseverance and there’s something to be learned from you. I want you to think about it over the next few weeks and then we can talk about it more. I’m immensely proud of how far you’ve come in your recovery._ **

**_See You Soon, Erin_ **

_"I’m immensely proud of how far you’ve come in your recovery." Screw you, that's bull._

Jules shoved the letter and pamphlets from the group into her drawer and leaned back in her chair; she rubbed her face and groaned.

_I don’t want to think about it. I don’t want to think about anything. Not a trial, not some freak, no werewolves or friends or Stiles. None of it._

Jules slowly and methodically did all that she had to. She showered and got her father to bring her medication upstairs so she could take it. She put on pajama’s and climbed into bed ready to sleep her day away. Her bleary eyes flicked to the medication she could take to give her a dreamless sleep. Jules sighed and turned away from them and faced her wall.

_Not going down that road again. First it’s easy sleep and then what? Forget it. I can bear the weight of my own life, I can endure whatever shit fest is gonna come my way. I just will._

 And then a thought struck her, one that was bitter sweet. 

_It's over now. I can walk away. I can bear this but I don't have to.  So should I?_


	20. Anchors

**So it looks like I'm actually going to be able to post the first 3 chapters of 3b (Anchors, Anchors II and More Bad Than Good) by the end of June which is nice since there's kind of a miniature arc between Jules and Lydia I'm excited to share to completion. So without further ado, welcome to 3b.**

** Chapter Twenty – Anchors **

* * *

 

Jules jolted awake, her breathing was heavy and thick. Her heart pounded loudly in her chest and her back was slick with sweat. She tossed her covers and sheet off and threw herself out of bed. Jules stumbled into her bathroom and forced open the window and stuck her upper body into the cold October air. She couldn’t remember her nightmare; the images had slipped away like water in her hands. It didn’t matter; all she remembered were different people’s voices telling her it was going to be okay. That was a tough thing for her to believe, when almost nothing was okay. Jules shuddered as the frigid air crept under her skin, reminding her of the freezing water numbing her arms, Stiles’s life in her hands. 

Jules pushed herself back inside and closed the window. The sun was rising, illuminating the dust in the air and casting warm light around her bathroom. Jules turned to her mirror and then looked away. The slice along her chest had since become a fine white line and the sharp cuts of glass were almost faded. Slowly and surely the eclipse was fading away. Jules still had one profound physical mark, though an internal one. Rib injuries could take up six weeks to heal, and whatever Blake had done with her kick, it was lasting. Jules shuddered at the thought of Jennifer. Whose hand had joined the memories of others snaked around her neck and squeezing like a vice, her beating was just one of many. 

Jules stripped off her clothes and stepped into her shower, if the sun was rising it was time to wake up anyway. She had hoped that coming home would end most forms of physical punishment, she had been wrong.

Jules twisted on the water. She had been wrong about a lot of things. One of them being going back to the way things were with Stiles, pre-eclipse. He had been avoiding her like the plague; she knew this for a fact. Because whenever she approached him he made an excuse to get away, and if he couldn’t do that he could barely look at her. Everything about him was off. She tried to attribute it to the effects of the sacrifice but neither Scott nor Allison were having issues with her or anyone else. Jules wanted to tell herself that whatever was going on with him was something she could help him with, but she couldn’t do that if he wouldn’t talk to her. Jules jerked her hands through her tangled and now soaked hair. She couldn’t help anyone if they wouldn’t let her. She snorted, inhaling water and sputtering as she did.

_That’s what people say about me._

* * *

 

Jules watched her father bustle around the kitchen with narrowed eyes. She waited for him to mention the fact the Charlotte had left the house the night before and not come back. She had been acting off, Jules knew that, but especially so in the past two weeks. Longer hours, hardly looking at Jules or Noah. A few times Jules had considered reaching out and then she remembered that her mother thought she was a whore. Jules had decided that Charlotte didn’t deserve her empathy. 

Her father placed a waffle in front of her with a tight lipped smile. Jules shot him an incredulous look.

“So, am I gonna have to ask where mom is or…” She trailed off and looked at Noah expectantly. He sighed and sat down across from her.

“She’s spending a few days with a friend. Maria?” His voice hitched. “She’s getting a divorce and having a nervous breakdown.” Noah drizzled maple syrup on his food and passed it to his daughter, avoiding her eyes.

Jules sighed, her father was many things, but a good liar was not one of them.

“When did you meet Maria? Cause, I don’t remember a Maria.” Jules said lightly and focused on her breakfast, but she could tell her father was faltering.

“Did I say Maria? I meant Margaret.” He said hastily.

Jules was almost certain they didn’t know a Margaret either but she didn’t push it. Whatever was going on she decided that it wasn’t something she needed to involve herself in. But her father’s demeanor had changed dramatically. Jules resigned herself to the fact that she’d started a conversation that she didn’t want to have.

“Last week-” Noah started somberly and Jules decided that she wanted nothing to do with whatever he was about to say. She stood up, interrupting him and strode over to the counter and took her medication.

“I’m going to be late for school.” She muttered as she dry swallowed her last pill.

“Jules.” Noah said, he sounded tired.

Jules ignored him and slid her plate across the table. “I’m sure you’ll finish that.” She muttered and headed for the door.

Jules could feel his sad gaze on her; she tried to shake it off and pretend nothing more was wrong. Jules tried to push away a tight feeling in her chest. She wasn’t sure how many more terrible things she was able to bear.

* * *

 

Stiles was not having a good morning. He hadn’t been having good mornings or nights or days for that matter. Not since the eclipse. Maybe the only good thing was that it didn’t look like he was alone in losing his mind. But that wasn’t the only thing wrong, and it wasn’t the only thing weighing on him. He couldn’t talk to Jules about Jules. But he needed to talk to someone about her. Mainly how to look at her without thinking of the kiss. Or that her face was the last thing he saw before he died and the last thing he felt was the grip of her fingers and then nothing. He couldn’t shake those feelings and soon enough someone would notice and he hoped it wouldn’t be her. 

Scott stumbled down the steps and Stiles grabbed his frantic looking best friend.

“Hey. Hey you alright?” Stiles asked him, it was a stupid question. Because clearly, Scott was not alright. Scott nodded anyway and Stiles wished he hadn’t. If they all stopped lying about being fine, they might actually get better. “You don’t look alright, Scott.” He said.

“I’m okay.” He tried to assure.

“No, you’re not.” Stiles told him. “It’s happening to you to.” He said it as an assurance to himself, that he wasn’t alone, that he wasn’t crazy. “You’re seeing things, aren’t you?”

_Oh god, please say yes._

“How’d you know?” Scott asked, but it was clear on his face that he knew the answer.

The click of heels sounded behind him and Stiles turned around. There stood a tired looking Allison and a worried Lydia.

“Because it’s happening to all three of you.” She said in a low voice. She didn’t sound like she was okay either.

Stiles’s eyes darted around; it was odd to see both Allison and Lydia without Jules. Since the eclipse they'd been a trio, at least while at school.

“Where’s Jules?” The words slipped out of Stiles’s mouth before he could stop them.

Lydia rolled her eyes as the four of them began walking into school. “You know, I don’t know what the deal is with you two but stop avoiding her.” Lydia said impatiently.

Stiles blanched. “Deal? What deal?” He shot Scott a look of profound disbelief. “There’s nothing between-”

“Stiles, we aren’t blind.” Allison said blandly.

Stiles’s hand tightened around the straps of his backpack, his heart skipped. “No obviously you’re not blind. You know who was blind? Deucalion, what happened to him? Actually, what happened to-”

“Stiles.” A smirk played at Scott’s face. “You know I can hear your heartbeat, right?”

Stiles glowered at his friends.“Absurd. All of you.”

* * *

 

Jules didn’t want to acknowledge the existence of Kira Yukimura, but it felt like the right thing to do. And she’d been doing a lot of that in recent weeks, ‘the right thing.’ When the bell that ended her dull history class rang through the school she approached the timid girl. But then it clicked in Jules’s mind that there’s a separate reason befriending Kira Yukimura could be a fantastic idea. She wasn’t from Beacon Hills and she didn’t know anyone. She didn’t know anything about Jules.

Jules tapped the girl on the shoulder as they left the classroom. She spotted Scott standing across the hall, trying to seem like he wasn’t watching her.

“Hi, I’m Jules.” She introduced in what she hoped was a confident sounding voice.

“Kira.” She said, looking oddly at Jules.

Jules sighed, having forgotten that awkward silences tended to come with having nothing to say to a person. “Where are you from?”

_Small talk. Normal shit._

“New York.” Kira answered brightly.

Jules’s heart stopped in her chest. “City?”

Kira nodded. “Have you ever been?”

Her voice was light and casual but Jules did what was normal and unbecoming of her and overanalyzed everything.

_Do you know? Do you remember like amber alerts or whatever? Missing posters? What borough are you from?_

“No.” Jules blurted out. “Have no interest either.” She allowed words to continue to stumble from her mouth. “Welcome to Beacon Hills.”

And with that she turned on her heel and sped off in the opposite direction of Kira.

_Is New York following me? Is that what this is?_

She had completely forgotten about Scott and jumped when he appeared at her side. She spoke before giving him the chance to.

“How are you holding up?” Her hands twitched nervously.

“Fine.” He told her, not sounding or looking fine, but exhausted.

Jules walked with him to wherever he was headed. “You realize that me and Lydia talk extensively about how you three aren’t fine, right?”

“Do you talk extensively about you not being fine?” He asked earnestly.

She wanted to snap at him, but it was a valid question.

“No.” She answered in an honest voice. “I have a therapist for that. I suggest you three invest.”

Scott and Jules rounded a corner and she realized with a heavy heart where they were headed.

“I doubt that’s gonna help us.” He told her.

Jules decided that she needed to approach the topic before they walked up to the subject. “What is Stiles’s new found revulsion to me?” She asked pointedly, sick of him darting away whenever she appeared. “Has he said anything to you?” She wove a touch of pleading into her words, trying to get an answer out of Scott.

_Like has he said anything about me being a dumbass and kissing him to stop his panic attack? Because if he regrets it then so can I._

“No.” Scott said as they walked up, a smug look on his face. “Nothing at all.”

Jules felt the pounding of her heart and realized that Scott could hear it.

_God damn it._

Stiles attacked his lock.

“Maybe we need a little more time to get back to normal.” Scott said to him. Jules stood awkwardly at his side.

Stiles fumbled with his combination. “Yeah, try not to forget we hit the reset button on a supernatural beacon for supernatural creatures.” He looked to Scott, avoiding her. “There’s pretty good chance things are never going back to normal.”

_What did you think would happen? Your best friend’s a werewolf._

“Yeah.” Scott mumbled.

Jules noticed that Stiles had yet to open his locker; he was growing more and more frustrated with it. She was tempted to ask him if he was okay but figured he didn’t want that from her. She leaned back on the lockers and decided it was time for her to walk away from the situation but then Scott glanced at her. Jules jumped. His eyes were glowing red.

“Woah dude, your eyes.” Stiles said.

Jules put a hand on Scott’s arm.

“What about them?” He asked.

“They’re starting to glow.” Jules hissed.

“You mean like right now?” Scott asked urgently.

“No, next Wednesday.” Jules deadpanned.

“Yes right now. Scott, Scott stop it.” Stiles urged.

But it didn’t look like that would be happening; instead Scott appeared to be panicking.

“I can’t.” He panted. “I can’t control it.”

Stiles scanned the hall and Jules did the same. “All right, just keep your head down.” Stiles grabbed his friend. “Look down, come on.”

Jules and Stiles half pushed, half walked Scott down the hallway. Keeping his head shoved towards the floor, earning strange looks form their classmates. Jules pushed open the nearest door and slammed it behind her just as Scott began to growl.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.” She muttered under her breath as Scott yanked off his flannel. Being locked in a room with an out of control werewolf was the last thing she wanted.

“Scott I need you to calm down.” She said authoritatively. It didn’t work and Stiles raced to his friend.

“Scott, it’s okay.” Stiles tried to assure.

Scott darted away from them both. “Get back, get away from me.” He growled.

Jules teetered on the balls of her feet, unsure of what to do. Stiles tried again to assure him. Her heart raced.

“Get back; I don’t know what’s gonna happen!” Scott said. She could hear how desperate he was.

All that mattered to him at the moment was them, not himself. She stood next to Stiles as Scott clenched his hands into fists and blood poured from where his claws dug in. A pang of guilt shot through her chest and she began to walk towards Scott as he growled. Stiles grabbed her and she furiously shoved him away as Scott went to his knees. She watched as he calmed down, her eyes wide with terror.

Stiles knelt in front of Scott while Jules stood a ways away.

“Pain makes you human.” Scott said gruffly.

A shiver crept down her spine. She knew that, but she didn’t think she would ever see it applied in such a physical sense.

“Scott this isn’t just in our heads.” Stiles said in a low voice. Jules wondered if he wanted her to hear this, if he cared that she was still standing there. “This is real.”

Jules watched the back of Stiles’s head intently.

_Is it?_

“And it’s starting to get bad for me too.” He admitted.

Jules’s throat tightened, she had figured as much. But she didn’t think she’d ever hear him say it. Jules stepped away and headed for the door.

“I’m not just having nightmares. I’m having these dreams where I have to literally scream myself awake. And sometimes I’m not even sure if I’m ever actually waking up.”

Tears burned in her eyes. She’d had that before. She knew what that was like.

“What do you mean?” Scott pressed.

Jules’s breath hitched. She wanted to say something, anything, to make them understand that what they were going through wasn’t anything different then what some people went through every day.

“Do you know how you can tell if you’re dreaming?” He asked.

_Yes._

“You can’t read in dreams.”

Jules turned back around, remembering him struggling with his lock.

“Stiles.” She whispered. It didn’t look like he heard her. Pain and fear gripped her chest, making it hard to breathe. She wanted to help. She wanted to comfort them both but thought they might not want it, need it, not from her.

“More and more, the last few days, I’ve been having trouble reading. It's like I can’t see the words. I can’t put the letters in order.”

“Even now?” She finally spoke; her voice was tired and defeated.

He didn’t look at her; he stood up to face the chalkboard instead. “I can’t read a thing.” His voice was just above a whisper.

Jules stared numbly at his back. That wasn’t something she knew how to deal with, maybe none of this was.

* * *

Jules followed Stiles out of the classroom and waited for Scott and him to part ways. He turned to her, eyebrows raised.

“Jules, I’m pretty sure this isn’t something you can fix.” He said.

There was a sharp edge to his voice that tempted Jules towards anger. She pushed it down, he had always been patient with her, she owed the same treatment to him.

“Stiles you’re right.” She said candidly.

He froze. “What?” He asked flatly.

“This.” She pointed to him. “And Scott, and Allison, none of us can help you. But you know who can?”

“Deaton.” Stiles offered.

Jules knitted her eyebrows together. “No, doctors.”

Stiles scoffed. “And what do we tell them?”

Jules wanted to desperately to match his horrid attitude with one of her own, but Stiles didn’t need that, so she refused to let him have it.

“Your symptoms.” She said like it was obvious. “Everything you three are experiencing could be attributed to some intense PTS-”

She was cut off by him beginning to walk away. She was livid.

“Stiles Stilinski.” Her voice was dangerously low, and caused Stiles to stop in his place. He didn’t turn to face her.

“I don’t know what your issue is with me.” She snapped at him, her voice echoing through the empty hall. Jules couldn’t see his face, just the tense of his shoulders. She wondered how she was making him feel. Did he care? Did he know that he was hurting her?

She softened her voice. “But all I’m trying to do is help my friends.”

Stiles fidgeted his hands, and Jules sighed, anger bubbling up in her voice again.

“Maybe it’s occurred to you that I have a lot on my plate.” She hissed. “Maybe it’s crossed your mind that I don’t need to do this, Stilinski.” She spat his surname like poison. “I have enough on my mind without wondering what your problem with me is, so if you don’t want my help, then fine.” She snapped and turned on her heel. “You don’t have it.”

Jules walked harshly away from him, refusing to look back. Her eyes burned as she continued away. She didn’t want to think that maybe for some reason he hated her now. Like that when she’d kissed him he’d tasted her past on her lips, and decided he wanted no part of her again.

Jules kicked open the door to the girl’s bathroom and locked herself in a stall. Crying in a bathroom was one of the most disgraceful teen clichés she could think of. Crying itself wasn’t something she did often. But her enraged words to Stiles had been true; she didn’t have to be involved. And with everything she had to contend with, could she support everyone else? Especially when she struggled to manage herself? Jules banged her hands on the wall out of sheer frustration. She knew that she needed to think about herself first. Her problems, her own precarious mental state, her various impending disasters. She had to wonder, how much did they need her?

* * *

 

Jules wanted to be able to let her mother’s unexplained absence and her father’s odd behavior slide. She wanted to move past it. She considered calling and asking Gail if she knew anything but decided against it. There was no reason to burden Gail with worries that might not even be valid.

Jules crept into her mother’s office, glad that her secretary was too busy on the phone to notice her entrance. She didn’t want the attention. Jules picked open her mother’s office door, thankful that it being locked meant Charlotte wasn’t there. That she wasn’t walking into a warzone. Charlotte’s office looked like Jules figured it would, immaculate and organized. Everything had a place and everything appeared to be in that place. Jules quietly shut the door and slid into her mother’s desk chair, hoping that anything out of the ordinary would appear so. If she messed something up Charlotte would notice the next time she came in, which Jules realized, could be anytime.

With a renewed sense of urgency Jules rifled through the papers on her mother’s desk, her eyes falling on the outgoing mail. A small stack of things for Charlotte’s secretary to pick up, maybe that night or maybe the next morning. Jules flipped through the pile, finding nothing out of the ordinary until she reached the bottom.

**_Clearbrooke & Associates – Family and Divorce Law_ **

Jules froze and scanned the letter. The return address was Charlotte’s office and its destination was Jules’s home. Jules stared blankly at the manila envelope. She couldn’t imagine her parents not together.

_Isn’t that how everyone feels? Their parents are inseparable, until they’re not._

Anger surged up inside of Jules and replaced the hollow feeling in her chest. Charlotte was mailing her husband divorce papers, so where was she now? There was no friend she could go to. If she was anywhere she was in Los Angeles. Breaking the news to Gail before anyone else and waiting until the envelope Jules held in her hands to arrive on her husband’s doorstep.

_Is she really this much of a coward? Is this what she’s become? Is she that selfish?_

Jules shot out of the office chair and considered for a moment trashing her mother’s office. But a tantrum wouldn’t fix this, she couldn’t fix this. Jules’s eyes burned and she didn’t bother to stop it. There was no one around to see her cry, so for the second time that day she cried. She sobbed. She clutched the leg of her mother’s desk and cried for her friends and their battle, her sister and all of her pain that Jules was responsible for, her father, who was clearly only trying his best. She cried for Sara, who never even had a chance. And she let tears fall for herself, the life she could have had, all the things that she could’ve been, all the broken pieces that didn’t have to be that way and she cried for the grave she was still digging.

 Thne in a quick second Jules shut it down, forcing back her pain. She clutched the envelope and rose to her feet, steady as a tree planted in the ground. There wasn’t much she could fix, but for now she could do something about this. Jules slipped the letter into her backpack and strode from her mother’s office, letting the door click behind her.

_Charlotte doesn’t get to ruin me, after everyone that has tried; she doesn’t get to be the one to do it._

But as she crept from the building she wondered.

_Did I do this? Is this on me?_

Jules needed to speak to her father. Whether or not she would mention the imminent wrecking ball to his heart she didn’t know, but she needed to tell him something. Something that would make looking at him easier, that would make getting up in the morning easier. Jules had a million things she wanted off of her chest and nowhere for them to go. She had spent almost three quarters of a year holding everything too close for comfort. Every person she’d spoken to had told her she didn’t have anything to be ashamed of, and maybe they were right. Everything Noah Hayes had taught his daughters was to be courageous and honest. It was time for Jules to be a little bit more of both.

* * *

 

Stiles set the flowers for his mother down and fumbled with his car keys, eager to get to the cemetery and then home. His conversation with his father had done nothing for his mood. His dad shouldn’t have to go over every case he’d ever worked and wonder if there was more he could have done. And he shouldn’t have Rafael McCall breathing down his neck. He looked up as a familiar bike rode past.

“Jules?” He called out.

She stopped dead and jerked off of her bike. She turned slowly towards him as she yanked her helmet off of her head. Even in the weak glow of the stations outdoor lights he could tell she was furious, he could also see that she was upset. And she had every right to be fed up with him.

“That’s my name.” She said curtly, but her voice wavered. Betraying whatever collected front she was trying to put up.

Stiles pocketed his keys and walked over to her, his head bowed and his hands in his pockets. Jules folded her arms over her chest, her eyes shone and Stiles was at a loss for words. But he figured it would be best to start with two.

“I’m sorry.” Sties blurted out. That was the only think he could think to say that would make any sense. That was the only thing he could say that wouldn’t freak her out completely.

“Okay.” He voice was flat. “Is my dad here? Because he wasn't at the fire station."

Stiles frowned; he hadn’t realized that he had been hoping she was here to see him. But that was ridiculous; if she was looking for him the first thing she would have done was call.

“No.” Stiles said in a small voice. “No, he’s not.”

Jules sighed and put her helmet back on, avoiding his eyes as tears welled in hers.

“Jules. I know that you don’t owe us your help. But don’t shut us out.” Stiles started, hoping that he was saying the right thing. “And we can help you. With whatever it is-”

“Stop.” She cut him off in a cold voice and raised her eyes to meet his. “Shut us out? Did you just say that?” She asked incredulously. “Stiles, I am not the one who has been walking the other direction when I see you in the hallway.” Her voice was low and on the verge of breaking. He took a step closer and she took one back.

“Jules, I know that-” Stiles began, hoping that somewhere in his head he could come up with an explanation for his sudden aversion to her other than 'I think I like you and I think that would scare you.'

“Does it sound like I’m finished?” She snapped, her voice beginning to rise. Her stare was cold and authoritative, something he wasn’t actually used to seeing on her. This wasn’t the fiery and easily doused rage of hers that he was accustomed to, that he found oddly endearing. The ones that were usually directed at a situation, not at him. This was something else, this was the kind of anger that could ruin friendships, and could ruin people, the kind that was warranted and real and frozen.

“I am not an unlimited resource of dealing with stuff. I can’t keep drawing lines of what I’m prepared to handle and then crossing them and damning the consequences. I have to stop somewhere or I’m…” She trailed off; her voice was low and shaking with her hands. She climbed onto her bike.

“Jules, you can’t do everything alone.” The words fell out of his mouth before he had thought about them. Stiles wanted to reach out to her, to stop her from leaving, but he knew better and he knew it wouldn’t help.

She froze, one foot poised on her bike pedal.

“I know.” She glanced at him, an agonized expression on her face. “Maybe you should avoid me. Because I don’t know how involved in your shit I want to be.”

The cut of her words stayed with Stiles as she sped away. He had gone into this conversation hoping to fix things; Stiles thought he should’ve known better than to think he could do that.

* * *

 

_“I don’t know how involved in your shit I want to be.”_

Stiles slammed his hand on the steering wheel as he drove. If she wanted out then she was out and that was fine. Safer for her. But it meant they’d lose her. Stiles didn’t have other friends at school, not really, because he was too caught up in a world they didn’t know about. If Jules walked away then she was gone, and she’d take something with her. What exactly, Stiles didn’t know. But she and Lydia would lose each other again, and that wasn’t something he wanted to see. They’d each lost to much, was he supposed to watch them lose each other too?

* * *

 

Jules found her father sitting on the back porch staring at the woods. It wasn’t unusual to find him like this, with a faraway expression and a beer in his hand. But usually Charlotte was with him. Not tonight, and for all Jules knew, maybe never again. She pushed Stiles from the space in her mind he had begun to occupy, she was unsuccessful and he stayed there. Nagging at the edge of her thoughts as she stood frozen behind Noah.

She let the door snap shut behind her and cringed at the sound of the rickety frame. The letter was heavy in her bag and the weight of all the things she knew and had seen and done threatened to shatter her spine. Jules took a seat next to her father, he watched her as she did. She felt like she was disturbing him, interrupting a moment that he should have been sharing with his wife. Maybe he had been pretending to she was next to him, instead of off visiting a friend that didn’t exist.

Noah and Jules sat shoulder to shoulder staring out across their backyard. Words bubbled up into Jules’s throat and she wondered what secret she wanted to share. Maybe it was Sara. All Jules ever wanted to do was tell her story. She deserved recognition. She deserved to be preserved somehow. But right then didn’t feel like the right time to introduce the possibility that Jules may or may not have been in love with a girl. And telling her story like she was just a friend didn’t do it justice. Jules didn’t think she would be able to paint a picture of how much losing her had meant without first admitting that Sara had been a part of her. A place in her heart that was unfamiliar territory. A place in her soul that she didn't know yet. She had to pick something else. Maybe a lie she’d told. Maybe the drugs.

_But then he’d worry. He’d worry about me now instead of me then. And he should be worried about present me. But he’s still getting over past me._

“Do you remember when I was in Eichen house, and mom told me that she’d thought about me every day. And I said that I did to?” Jules asked softly, picking a lie to unravel, a lie she shouldn’t have told.

Noah nodded. “You were lying.” His voice was low, but it sounded like he was getting something off of his chest.

It then occurred to Jules that he lived with pain. And that people who lived with pain lie.

Jules nodded. “I felt terrible about that. That lie.” She said in a candid voice.

_But not other lies. I don’t feel nearly as much guilt as maybe I should._

“You shouldn’t’ve.” He concurred. “Your mother…” He trailed off, looking pensively at the ground. “She didn’t know what to say to you. She didn’t want you in Eichen. She didn’t want you to testify. She just wanted the truth. I tried to tell her she wouldn’t get it, not all of it. Charlie told me I was out of my skull.” He took a sip from his drink and sighed.

Jules shrugged. “She had a lot of faith in me. I could see that. I didn’t want to let her down. Or you. Or Gail.” Her voice was just above a whisper.

“I know." He set down the bottle and picked at a scar on his hands. "But that shouldn’t have been something you had to do.” Noah said his voice as soft as his daughter’s.

Jules picked at her nails. “It was either tell the truth or lie. I couldn’t just be silent. And the truth…” She trailed off. The truth hurt. The truth came down like lightning and ruined everything. Jules had so many truths wrapped up in lies, like the lies could somehow keep her safe when the storm came. Like if she pretended that thinking of her family hadn’t made rage burn in her blood because they were in Beacon Hills in their own beds and she was in New York City on a chewed up mattress.  Maybe if she continued to pretend the trial wasn’t looming overhead she wouldn’t have to retell her circle of the inferno. Maybe if she turned her head away from the supernatural it would suddenly not be there. Maybe if she was furious at Stiles she wouldn’t feel anything else. None of her mistruths were working. They just hurt; they hurt almost as much as pretending that she and Lydia could ever be the same.

“I guess I’m just sorry.” Jules said in a small, childlike voice. “Sorry for everything that happened. Everything that is still going to happen. Everything that we will have to deal with forever. I’m sorry that we have to pretend that it’s okay when it isn’t and that I have to act like I’m ashamed of going through what I did.”

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for.” Noah said decisively. There was no arguing with him.

Jules shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe I just want everyone else to be sorry. Like if the world apologizes that makes it better somehow.”

Noah chuckled. “Wouldn’t that be nice?”

Jules leaned her head on her father’s shoulder. “No. Fuck the world, I don’t want its pity.”

Noah wrapped his arm around his daughter’s shoulders. “That sounds like you.”

 


	21. Anchors II

** Chapter Twenty One – Anchors II **

* * *

 

Jules sat hunched in her chair, staring lividly at Finstock. She had no patience for the man or for his class. Not with everything else buzzing in her head. Like where her mother might be and if she was coming back, the state of her friends, the state of her stalker, and the state of New York. When the Coach began to blow his whistle she just about shot up out of her seat. Until she realized he was poised in front of a very disoriented Stiles Stilinski. Anger rose in her chest along with worry and fierce protectiveness. She tried to force it all down.

Jules eased back into her seat as the Coach snapped at Stiles and demanded he answer a question that Stiles didn’t hear. Jules could feel Scott’s eyes burning into the side of her head.

“I’m okay. I just feel asleep for a sec.” She heard Stiles assure Scott.

“Dude, you weren’t asleep.” Scott told him. His voice low and worried.

Jules pressed her hands into temples and shut her eyes. Both of her knees bouncing. Her heart hammered and her thoughts raced through her head. All questions and fears about countless things.

“Hayes, not you to. Pay attention!” Coach barked.

Jules knew that he meant well. She really did. Her eyes darted around the classroom to avoid Finstock's and they fell on Scott’s concerned gaze, geared towards both her and Stiles.

Her eyes burned.

_Why does everyone have to mean well?_

Jules stood up and hurriedly collected her things and charged for the door.

“Hayes, what are you doing?” Coach asked her, in a softer voice then he might have taken with another student.

Then Jules remembered that each of her teachers had been warned to go easy on her. She wondered how that conversation had gone down.

_"Now faculty, remember to take it easy on the sex crimes victims!"_

“I have to go.” She blurted out, trying to ignore the curious glances from classmates and the looks from Scott and Stiles. “I…” She trailed off and turned and left without a second glance.

Jules charged for the school doors and then to the field. Wondering when her life had become too much for her to handle. Jules had always told herself that if she survived New York she could survive anything.

She collapsed onto the bleachers and stared at the ground, tears welling in her eyes.

Jules had been able to survive anything when anything was a lot less then what she was contending with. Now, she wasn’t so sure about how long she could hold on.

* * *

 

By the time the bell rang for lunch Jules had been called into action again. Apparently, there was a top secret werewolf meeting happening at a table outside, where they could be overheard by anyone. Reluctantly, Jules sought out her friends in the courtyard and took a seat next to Lydia. Stiles avoided her eyes and Scott shot her a worried glance.

“Okay, so what happens to a person who has a near death experience and comes out of it seeing things?” Scott asked.

“And is unable to tell what’s real or not?” Stiles added.

“And is being haunted by demonic visions of dead relatives.” Allison concluded their symptoms.

“They’re all locked up because they’re insane.” Isaac said pointedly.

Jules shot him a murderous glare. “They have PTSD and they get counselling.” She said poisonously. Making sure to glower at Stiles.

Stiles glared at Isaac. “Ha. Can you at least try to be helpful, please?”

“For half my childhood, I was locked in a freezer. So being helpful is kind of a new thing for me.” Isaac said smoothly.

Jules let out an exasperated sigh, wondering why Lydia had thought it was so important she came to this.

“Hey, dude, are you still milking that?” Stiles asked Isaac incredulously.

Jules aimed a kick at him underneath the table. “Hey, dude, I didn’t realize that reeling from years of abuse was ‘milking’ something. Someone really should have warned me.” She spat, mimicking Stiles’s condescending tone.

Isaac shot Stiles a smug look and Jules a small smile. Lydia glanced wryly at Allison and then looked pointedly, eyebrows raised, at Jules. She ignored all of them.

“Hi.” Kira appeared at her side. “Hi, sorry. I couldn’t help overhearing what you guys were talking about.” She said, nervousness oozed off of her.

Jules gave her what she hoped was a warm look, but might have just seemed congested. The group of them exchanged surprised glances.

“And I think I might actually know what you’re talking about.” Kira said.

Each of them looked at her, silently asking her to continue. Jules wanted to tell her to walk away, that she didn’t want to get involved in this group or any of their conversations. She wanted to tell Kira that she might regret it, but Jules said nothing. Still unsure about how she felt about her own reservations.

“There’s a Tibetan word for it. It’s called “Bardo.” It literally means “in between state.” The state between life and death.” Kira finished.

“And what do they call you?” Lydia asked in a bitter sweet voice.

Jules pursed her lips.

“Kira.” Scott and Jules answered at the same time. Scott and Kira smiled at each other and Jules bowed her head.

_Oh god. Kira run away. RUN AWAY._

“She’s in our history class.” Scott explained, gesturing towards Jules.

“So are you talking Bardo in Tibetan Buddhism or Indian?” Lydia asked her.

Kira sat down across from Jules and smiled nervously at her. Jules did her best to seem welcoming. She failed.

“Either, I guess. But all the stuff you guys were just saying? All that happens in Bardo. There are different progressive states where you can have hallucinations. Some you see, some you just hear. And you can be visited by peaceful and wrathful deities. Kira elaborated brightly.

“Sounds like a trip.” Jules muttered.

“Wrathful deities?” Isaac questioned. “And what are those?”

“Like demons.” Kira said to them.

Jules stared blankly at the table.

_FANTASTIC. AWESOME. WOW._

“Demons. Why not?” Stiles quipped.

Jules couldn’t bring herself to list reasons “why not”. Mostly, she just wanted a nap and maybe a smoothie.

“Hold on,” Allison cut in. “if there are progressive states, then what’s the last one?” She asked

“I get the feeling the journey between life and death doesn’t have an ideal final stop.” Jules said in a sour voice.

“Jules is right.” Kira said. “Death. You die.”

The group of them exchanged look of mutual fear and disbelief. As Kira got up to head to her next class.

“Well, my PTSD idea doesn’t seem so far out of left field now, does it?” She said in a light but biting voice. Jules stood up. “I’ll be sure to visit you all in Eichen, kids.” She glanced at Isaac. “Where they lock up the ‘insane’ people. I should know. I spent six months in the place.” She shot him a venomous look and then turned on her heel, abandoning the conversation.

* * *

 

Allison and Lydia exchanged knowing glances and collected their things in sync as they went after Jules. They caught her in the doorway of the school.

“Jules.” Lydia said.

Jules froze with one hand on the door handle. And for a moment in crossed Lydia’s mind that she just might keep walking. She might just walk away. Jules had been drifting since the eclipse, drifting and withdrawing from her, from all of them. Relief bloomed in Lydia’s chest when Jules turned to face them, one hand still on the door.

“Yes?” She quirked an eyebrow.

“You know you can talk to us, about anything.” Lydia assured her. “Right?” She said, mostly for the assurance of herself.

“You don’t need to talk to Stiles or Isaac or Scott. But whatever you need, Lydia and I are here.” Allison continued.

Jules wasn’t looking at either of them; she was looking at the ground. “I know that’s what you think.” She raised her eyes to meets Lydia’s. “The truth is another matter.”

“Jules-” Lydia began, hoping that she could spin words that would make Jules open up. The way she had always been able to do.

“There’s a lot happening right now.” Jules pointed out the obvious. “Not just with you guys but with me. And a lot of it isn’t, and no offense, but a lot of it is my business and mine alone.”

The words came out of her mouth strong and easily. Probably, because they were true. Lydia knew that Jules might never totally come clean about what she’d been through and Lydia didn’t expect her to. But she had expected to be let in, just a little bit more. She had a wedge in the door, which might have been more than anyone else had. But there was a lot behind that door, pushing back, pushing her out.

“I don’t know if I can help you guys.” Jules told them. Her one hand in her pocket, the other clutching the door with white knuckles.

_Is it to keep from shaking?_

“Jules.” Allison’s voice was soft. “All you’ve done is help us.”

Jules rolled her eyes. “I know I have the ability. What I’m saying is I don’t know if I should.” She gestured to the table where Scott, Stiles and Isaac still sat. Watching the girls, but trying and failing not to make it obvious. 

Lydia could see Stiles pressing the two werewolves for details. Lydia shot them a glare, but it didn’t look like it made them stop.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about what’s best for me. This might not be it.” She said in a low and solemn voice and then turned and walked through the doors without another word or glance.

Lydia sighed and leaned against the wall. “She’s right.” She huffed.

“You were right.” Allison said.

Lydia quirked a brow. “Yes, but about what?”

“At that rest stop. You kept telling us that you didn’t think Jules was ready for this. We didn’t listen.” Allison said sadly.

“Well at least she’s figuring that out for herself now.” Lydia said almost bitterly. “Jules always used to think about herself first. Maybe she’s getting that back. Maybe she’ll be less likely to fight a druid. Maybe she should walk away.”

“Then what does that mean for you?” Allison asked Lydia.

“It means I lose her. But I don’t think I ever got her back.” Lydia said in a broken voice, her eyes on a crack in the pavement.

“What do you mean?” Allison pressed, her brows knit together as she leaned on the wall next to Lydia, following her line of sight to the ground. The boys across the courtyard began to gather their things and leave, Stiles and Isaac bickering.

“I imagined my Jules coming home. But the Jules you know isn’t the one I did.” Lydia glanced inside the school at Jules’s blonde ponytail disappearing into the sea of students.

“You didn’t think you’d have to get to know her again.” Allison confirmed what Lydia was trying to say.

Lydia nodded. “I didn’t think I might lose her again either.”

Allison grabbed Lydia’s hand. “You’re not going to.”

Lydia pushed open the door and they walked into school. She didn’t believe Allison, not that she would admit that. Jules was faraway and getting farther. She was keeping her entire life close to her chest and she had every right to. If Jules wanted to take care of herself, if she wanted to walk away, Lydia wasn’t going to stop her. She loved her far too much to do that. It would hurt, but it seemed like most things did hurt eventually.

* * *

 

-           ** _Stiles – crazy_**

-           ** _Scott – crazy_**

-           ** _Allison – crazy_**

-           ** _Beacon for the supernatural – active_**

-           ** _Upcoming trial – rapists_**

-           ** _Drugs_**

-           ** _Mother?_**

-           ** _Poor coping mechanisms and too much to cope with_**

-           ** _Stalker_**

-           

Jules continued to contemplate what else should go on her list of horrors. Because things were missing, she knew that, they just sped through her head far too fast for her to consider writing them down. Afterwards she was going to number them. Prioritize. It was hard; trying to decide which things took precedence over others. She knew what Erin would say.

_“Your needs come before everyone else’s wants. That’s what taking care of yourself is.”_

Jules tossed her pen down and it rolled to the floor with a clatter. She didn’t want to think about this. She didn’t want to think about anything. She just wanted the world, for just one moment, to stop, or even slow down. Jules wanted to reach the eye of the storm instead of being stuck standing blindly in the rain, trying and failing to dodge the debris hurled at her by the wind.

She just wanted some peace.

There was a knock on the door, soft and tentative, decidedly not Noah-like. Jules thought for a moment it might be her mother, returning from wherever it was she had been with one hell of an apology. Jules’s gaze was frozen on her notebook.

“Jules? It’s Lydia.”

Her familiar voice was muffled by the door. Jules shut her notebook and shoved it back onto her shelf.

“Come in.”

Jules got out of her chair, her hands clenching the back of it with white knuckles.

_Is she mad? She doesn’t sound mad._

The door creaked open and Lydia look a small step inside, she closed the door behind her.

“Your dad let me in.” She explained unnecessarily.

Jules nodded her gaze on Lydia’s neck. Where the bruise left by Jennifer had long since faded. As had the handprint Jules had worn on her own skin.

Lydia sighed. “You can talk to me. About anything.”

Jules stared blandly at Lydia, one eyebrow raised. “Maybe I don’t want to.” She said.

She could feel the reverberations of her words. She knew they probably hurt but they were true. Jules didn’t know what she wanted. She didn’t know what she wanted to say. She didn’t even know if she wanted to talk. She could let little pieces of herself slide into the open, enough to feel like she was getting better. But Jules wasn’t getting any better, just different. And she should have expected that. 

_“It will only get different and all you have to do is hang around long enough to see if you can make it work.”_

“Don’t say that.” Lydia said to her, her voice was teetering on breaking. “You have to want to talk to someone and if you bring up your therapist, I will lose it. I don’t know if they think you’re making progress, but I don’t.” Her voice grew in strength and speed. “I don’t think you’re getting better and I don’t think anything we’ve put you through is helping.”

Jules let out a tense puff of air, her nails dug into the wood of her chair. Erin did think Jules was making progress, not that Jules had believed her. She thought maybe she didn’t see it. But if the ever perceptive Lydia didn’t notice change, then maybe there hadn’t been any.

“And what do you want me to do with those thoughts?” Jules asked her coldly.

Lydia appeared unfazed by her terseness. “I don’t know. But at that rest stop when they decided to bring you in, I think I was the only one who thought about you. What you might already be trying to handle. And I think I was right.”

Tears were welling in Lydia’s eyes and she had taken steps closer to Jules.

Jules clenched her jaw. “If it’s any consolation, I think you might have been right to. But I…” She trailed off; she didn’t know how to finish that.

Jules didn’t owe her friends anything, she didn’t have any fascination with the supernatural that couldn’t be directed elsewhere, and despite her poor decision making skills, and she didn’t have a death wish. 'But' what, she didn’t know.

“You care.” Lydia told her. “You care, you want to help or you feel like you’re compensating for something.” Her words came quickly. “But you shouldn’t at the expense of yourself.”

Jules scoffed. “And what about you? Are we gonna pretend that you’re fine?”

“Jules don’t do that.” Lydia urged. “Don’t turn this on me.”

Jules’s hands shook with anger. “Well something needs to not be about me, Lydia. Something needs to be about somebody else’s problems.” She snapped.

Lydia folded her arms over her chest. “Juliet you can’t fix anything by not dealing with it.”

“I am dealing with it. I’m dealing with everything.” Jules said in a flat and dangerous voice. “That, Lydia Martin, seems to be the problem.”

Rage coiled like snake in her stomach. She didn’t want to yell. If she raised her voice her father would hear. If she yelled she would come off as the irrational one. If she yelled she lost this battle.

_Not everything is a fight. Not anymore._

She pushed her thought away. This was. This was a fight.

“Are you?” Lydia asked her.

The worst part was she sounded genuine. She wanted an answer. Well, Jules didn’t want to talk about it.

“I don’t know Lydia.” She said sardonically. “Why don’t you keep telling me whether or not I’m fine? Or you could do something that would actually benefit me, like leave my house.” She hissed at her.

And that was it. Jules knew it. That was the blow that would end this conversation. And in a second Lydia’s heart was on her sleeve, the pain Jules had just inflicted was plain on her face and it felt like a knife in Jules’s heart. But she forged on.

“Go.” She said lowly. “Just go Lydia. I want out. You want me out. And you’re in. So how do you want that to work?” Her voice was a hard edge, ensuring that Lydia wouldn’t press. That Lydia wouldn’t see a door to push. She’d see a brick wall.

“Fine.” Lydia said reluctantly. “But you still have me, Jules. No matter what. You’re still my best friend.”

Jules set her jaw and locked eyes with Lydia. It was time to say what needed to be said. To cut the rope. To speak the words that had sat silently between them since the night in August when Jules had knocked on Lydia’s door.

“I’m not your Jules.”

* * *

 

Lydia couldn’t sleep. How was she supposed to sleep after what had happened? She had thought she was losing Jules. But it was a thought in the abstract. She lost Jules, and she got her back. Jules wasn’t supposed to slip away again. And if she did it wasn’t supposed to be a decision she made. Is that how friendships end?

_No, it’s not over._

Tears stung her eyes and dripped into her pillow. She recounted a conversation she’d had with Morell about Jules. The guidance counselor had asked Lydia what it meant to her that Jules was home, and what it meant going forward. Lydia had told her that now she didn’t have just one best friend but two. She had told her that it meant someone who knew her inside and out was home. Lydia had told Morell that her best friend was back where she belonged. And Morell had put it lightly that Jules was a changed girl, and that so was Lydia. Lydia had been too stubborn to consider that the Jules before her wasn’t her friend with experiences added on. But it was Juliet Hayes made new, built out of pain and suffering and rage. This wasn’t the girl Lydia had known. She hadn’t grown like Lydia had, with her roots still in the ground. Juliet Hayes had been ripped up and apart, and Lydia didn’t want to believe it.

_“I’m not your Jules.”_

Lydia knew it now. The Jules she had lost wasn’t the one that came back. Lydia had missed her so much, and she still did.

* * *

 

_Jules surfaced beside Lydia. Her hair plastered to her face with lake water but her smile was plain as day._

_“You weren’t supposed to pull me in!” She shouted through laughter and water coming out of her nose._

_“You weren’t supposed to be afraid of the lake.” Lydia said matter-of-factly, swimming out a little farther._

_Jules followed her lead and went even farther then Lydia._

_“I’m not afraid. I just can’t see the bottom.” She splashed Lydia. “You never know what’s down there Lydia. Beacon Hills has stories.”_

_Lydia quirked an eyebrow. “Oh really? Like what? The animal attacks? Those don’t happen anymore.”_

_Jules dove down under the water, disappearing into the blackness of the lake. Lydia waited for the inevitable tug on her leg but it never came. Just as her heart blipped as she scanned the water for her friend Jules popped up behind her. Lydia let out a short scream._

_“Who’s afraid now?” Jules taunted and splashed Lydia again._

_Their laughter echoed across the lake and into the surrounding woods. The two girls paid no attention to it as they traded made up stories of what they did over the summer. They were going into the eighth grade, all their drama had to be made up._

_“Lydia, you know the Juliet jokes get old right? Nothing good happened to her.” Jules pointed out as they dragged themselves onto the dock._

_“It’s funny because nothing bad ever happens to you.” Lydia said with a smirk._

_Jules rolled her eyes. “How could it? I’m perfect.”_

_“Perfect idiot maybe.” Lydia muttered._

_Jules laughed and then shoved her in the lake._

_Lydia had seen it coming. That made it more hilarious somehow._

 


	22. More Bad than Good

** Chapter Twenty Two – More Bad than Good **

* * *

 

Jules awoke to the sound of her father slamming his foot on the table in the hallway.

“Dad?” She called out sleepily. “What the hell?”

“Missing persons. New Lead. New search. Go back to bed.” Noah said as though he himself was still asleep.

Jules shot out of bed and into the hallway. “What?” She was awakened by the words ‘Missing persons.’

Noah groaned. “Jules, we can talk about it tomorrow. It’s not your problem.”

Jules rolled her eyes and trudged back into her room. “Not your problem.” She mocked.

“I can still hear you!” He said from the stairs.

“Go do your job!” She shouted at him, crawling back under the covers. “Honestly, who trusted you with the safety of a town?” She uttered sarcastically.

She heard her father grumble a reply as she tried to get comfortable again. Across the room her computer screen lit up with a new email. Jules groaned and got back out of bed, knowing that it would nag her until she never found sleep.

Jules slumped into the chair that held scratches form her nails from only hours before, guilt bloomed in her chest as she recounted the words exchanged with Lydia. Jules tried to tell herself she’d done what was necessary. That until she figured out what she needed or what she wanted or some overlap of the two, it would be best if everyone and everything stayed away. Space, she told herself, was what she needed. Just some room to breathe and time to think.

Jules opened the email and was presented with an unknown sender and a grainy video. Her heart surged and her blood ran like ice in through her veins. Was this video of her? She examined the frame carefully. It didn’t look anything like Beacon Hills or New York. With a shaking hand Jules pressed play and a time stamp appeared in the corner.

**_2005/11/01 02:27:36_ **

The paused and considered. This video took place when Jules was ten years old. So what could be on it? She thought for a moment that this might be spam. She scrolled to the bottom of the message and found the telltale note, painfully personal and haunting.

**_I wish she could have ended up like you._ **

_What?_

The bitter metallic taste of fear filled Jules’s mouth as she scrolled back up to the clip. She knew she didn’t have to watch it. But what was it? Jules grappled with her curiosity. What did the sender mean? Nothing fantastic had ever happened to Jules other than the fact that she wasn’t dead. Was that was this was? Was she about to witness a murder? Or something else? Something worse? She had seen a few people die in the past few years, traumatizing as it was, it wasn’t anything she didn’t learn to live with. Jules decided to focus on a separate part of the message. The “I wish”. That was personal. This video could give a clue to the identity of whoever had fixated on Jules. This video could give her more than crushing anxiety.

Jules pressed play.

For about half a minute there was nothing but a nondescript shadow in the corner, dancing on and off camera. Her heart pounded and she could feel herself breaking into a cold sweat. It didn’t matter; she’d shower in the morning after pretending to have slept.

Jules’s eyes were glued to the screen as a woman walked by, carrying her shoes. She walked onto camera and then off. The shadow didn’t move. The shadow must have been thinking.

Jules wasn’t. Jules couldn’t find a thought inside of her head to hold onto.

The shadow darted into sight, taking the form of a large man clad in a red hoodie, something gleamed in his hand.

Jules’s mouth was dry as the woman reappeared on screen, a hand on her mouth hair and a knife at her throat. She moved stiffly and compliantly. Who wouldn’t in that situation? And just like that the woman was pulled off camera. Her bag and jacket were tossed back on screen and the clip ended.

Jules stared blankly at her screen, disgust and horror and questions swirled in her head. That woman, whoever and wherever she was, if she was even alive, was important. Not to Jules. She had no idea who that was. But to someone, she must have been everything, someone who had latched onto Jules like a parasite.

Jules careened into her bathroom and retched. It wasn’t hard to know what had happened next, and then the aftermath, the aftermath. Even once was enough to change a person, to ruin them. Jules knew that.

_“I wish she could have ended up like you.”_

Now it wasn’t hard to understand what that meant. Jules was many terrible things, but dead was not one of them. That woman might not have made it through the night, or she might not have survived the aftermath. Either way, someone who knew her, who loved her, had never gotten over it. And they knew about Jules. They knew Juliet Hayes. A girl who had managed to come out the other side of hell and was still relatively okay. Relatively strong. Jules was someone who had survived, whereas that woman must not have been.

Jules stood up on shaking legs. This video, if it was authentic, was a clue.

Her computer beeped with another notification. She ran to it, unsurprised at finding a new message.

**_Keep this between us. Or else you might not like what happens._ **

Numbly, Jules closed her computer and crawled back into bed.

_Of course, can’t let me have some illusion of control. I’m just a player, in everyone else’s horrific games._

* * *

 

Noah was just about ready to smack Rafael McCall over the head with his flashlight. This was the asshole that had called him in, dragged him into the woods with a man Noah wasn’t sure he ever wanted to speak to again. Henry Tate and Noah Hayes had a pseudo friendship built upon mutual loss. Noah wasn’t sure if Tate had heard about Jules’s homecoming, and he wasn’t sure how this man, a man who had lost everything, would feel about it.

And now Noah was standing in front of a coyote den in the middle of the goddamn night listening to McCall berate a man had known and liked for a lot longer than Noah had been acquainted with and despised Rafael.

“What the hell are you doing bringing him here?” Stilinski snapped at McCall about Tate.

Noah stayed quiet, hoping that maybe he wouldn’t get dragged into their argument.

“Getting conformation on a more than significant lead.” McCall said.

“The coyote den? Sure.” Noah muttered gruffly.

McCall shot him an annoyed look and turned to the Sheriff. “And starting to understand why your department can’t close cases.”

Noah didn’t have anything to say to that.

“There’s no body. There’s no remains to identify.” Stilinski pointed out; there was no reason for McCall to be there. There was no reason for Noah to be their either.

“Well, not yet, Sheriff. But do a little digging and I’m sure you’ll uncover something.” The agent interrupted him condescendingly. “Like the bones of a nine year old girl.”

Noah peered into the den and then quirked an eyebrow at the Sheriff but Stilinski was looking at McCall.

“I think you’re going to find it’s just a little bit more complicated than that, Special Agent.” He said.

Noah smirked. “Special Agent.” He mumbled in the same mocking tone.

“Come on, Stilinski, you know how this goes. It’s the not knowing that ruins people like Tate.” McCall glanced at Noah as he said it.

Noah raised his eyebrows.

_You asshole._

“The truth, no matter how profoundly it sucks… The truth is always better than not knowing.” McCall finished, looking directly at Noah.

He scoffed. “So it that why you dragged my ass out here in the middle of the night?” Noah asked him sardonically. “So that you can tug on my heartstrings and hope I agree with you because of my kid?” His voice was low as he glowered at McCall. He thought back to the conversation he’d had with Jules two nights before.

“You’re here because you helped direct the search for the body eight years ago.” McCall told him and turned on his heel and walked away.

_Sure I am._

Both men glared at his retreating back. Anger settled comfortably into Noah’s chest and he knew there was no way he’d be getting any sleep tonight.

Stilinski sighed and clasped his hand on Noah’s shoulder.

“That truth spiel was bullshit.” Noah told him as they began to walk back to where their cars were parked. “You want it until you have it, then you don’t.”

Stilinski sighed and looked towards Tate, climbing back into McCall’s car. “I think what he wants is closure. He wants to know for sure if there’s a body.”

Noah shrugged. “When Jules went missing I thought there could be nothing worse than finding out my daughter was dead.” He sounded hollow. He didn't remember much of anything other then pain those two and a half years, and Jules being in Eichen hadn't actually made it better.

Stilinski gave his friend a sympathetic look.

“But when I learned what did happen to her, the truth.” He said, mocking the agent. He looked around the woods. “Well, there are worse things than not knowing, and there are worse things than death.”

The Sheriff nodded, maybe in understanding, or maybe in not knowing what to say. But he gestured around the woods. “What are you thinking happened?”

Noah let out a short and harsh chuckle. “I’m thinking I should have stayed in the marines. Way above the paygrade of Special Agent Rafael McCall.”

Stilinski shot him a small smile. “Definitely.”

Noah sighed and followed the Sheriff to his car. Stilinski looked around.

“Stiles!” He called. There was no answer, not even the rustle of a branch. His son had left.

“How’d they find this place?” Noah asked.

For a moment Stilinski was quiet, almost contemplative. “I don’t wanna know.” He resigned himself to saying as they climbed into the car.

Noah frowned. Beacon Hills was a quiet town, though it had livened up since last winter. And it had done it strangely. Every time there was another animal attack or strange break in or other occurrence, Noah couldn’t help but wonder if there was something more going on. Strangely and worryingly enough, he thought that Jules was somehow getting involved in it.

* * *

 

Jules walked into class as Kira pinned down Scott in a conversation.

_Good. He won’t try to speak to me._

She walked past Stiles and could feel his eyes follow her.

_He won’t speak to me because he thinks I’m pissed at him. No, I am pissed at him. Remember that. I, Juliet Hayes, am furious at Stiles Stilinski. Why? Because he’s an asshat. Case closed._

Stiles leaned across the aisle to talk to Scott. She looked away from them.

_You don’t care. It’s not important to you. You don’t care._

* * *

 

Stiles nudged Scott and flicked his eyes back to Jules.

“Is she okay?”

Scott frowned. The answer was no. Stiles had to know that. “Do you mean like how is she right now?”

He turned his head towards her. Not wanting to admit that he had done this before, with every one of his friends. It was hard not to tell when something about them was off. With Jules he’d grown used to her always feeling slightly wrong. It was almost always anger, boiling and slithering underneath the surface of her skin. It was no different today. The only change in her he had noticed was a mounting anxiety that Scott wasn’t sure what to do about, if he could so anything for her at all.

* * *

 

Jules’s attention lapsed as soon as Mr. Yukimura began to speak. Her few hours of sleep the night before made it almost impossible to focus on anything, much less history. The past was interesting, but the future was terrifying. Fear took precedent.

Jules had been watching as much law & Order: Special Victims Unit as she could since August. Her current unit in her actual law class was the constitution, and therefore irrelevant, at least to prepare her for the joint trial of the People v. Anderson and the People v. Byrant. However, Ice- T’s quips weren’t exactly doing much for her either.

Her attention was dragged away from the stories of the detectives who investigate vicious felonies by the feeling of eyes on her. It was Stiles.

_Of course it’s Stiles. It’s always Stiles._

The biggest problem was he was on his way to the front of the room, called up to read. Jules looked frantically to Scott, but his eyes were on his book.

_Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit._

Stiles was frantically scanning the page, he looked terrified. Jules could remember that kind of fear. Not knowing her own mind, not being in control. For her it had been drugs and detox taking her reality and destroying it. It had been the unorthodox methods of Eichen House.

She watched as Stiles’s hands clenched around the podium and he tried his best to stay calm.

_What am I supposed to do? I can’t just do nothing. Do I want to do nothing? No. I’m not that terrible._

Scott got up out of his seat as the other students began to notice something was wrong. Jules bounced her knees up and down, watching as he approached his panicking friend.

“Stiles, you okay?” Scott asked tentatively.

Two students in front of Jules exchanged amused looks. She crumpled up a piece of paper and hurled it at one boy’s head. He whipped around, livid. She quirked an eyebrow at him.

_Yeah, you know I’m out of my skull._

Jules looked fearfully back to Stiles as he leaned heavily on the podium. Yukimura stood up, nervously watching the two boys.

_There you, noticing something is wrong. Stellar._

“I should take him to the nurse’s office.” Scott said as Stiles continued to clutch the podium, his breathing heavy and quick.

_He’s panicking. Do something._

Jules tossed down her pen and stood up as Scott led Stiles out of the room. Scott turned and shook his head. She glared at him and stepped out into the aisle as Scott and Stiles kept walking.

“Ms. Hayes, I’m sure that they can get to the nurse without you.” Yukimura said calmly.

_Yeah. I’m sure they can do a lot of things without me._

Jules reluctantly got back into her seat; Kira’s eyes were darting back and forth between her and the empty seats of the two boys. Jules let out an exasperated sigh.

_Girl, you better not get curious. That road goes nowhere good._

* * *

 

Jules spent the rest of the class tapping her pencil and shooting impatient glares and Mr. Yukimura. She was certain he had noticed. Jules wondered how much she could get away with when it came to her teachers. How much slack were they allowed to give?

As soon as the bell rang she jolted out of her seat. Debating whether or not to seek out Scott and Stiles. Did they even want to talk to her? After how she’d acted yesterday? Jules ran her hands over her face.

_Does Lydia? Did I mean the things I said? Does it matter now that I’ve said them?_

Her heartrate climbed as Kira approached her.

_Oh god, what do you want?_

Kira picked up Scott’s bag and then Stiles’s. “Do you know where they might be?”

_Are you getting their stuff for them? Are you that nice?_

Her throat felt dry as she shrugged and pulled on her own bag. And then reached out and took Scott’s bag. “I’ll help you find them. We should check the locker rooms first.”

Her heart skipped.

_No. No, do not. None of that can’t return to the scene of the crime nonsense._

Kira nodded and followed Jules out of the room and through the school.

“You and Stiles…” Kira trailed off, not needing to finish the sentence.

Jules shook her head.

_No. Nope definitely not. Nothing. Zilch. Nada._

“You and Scott?” Kira asked her, a bit more cautiously that time, seeking out the answer she really wanted.

“No.” Jules said. “He’s a good guy though.” She turned to look at Kira. “Which is actually a major understatement.”

Kira nodded. “Cool. I was just wondering.” She said nervously, trying to cover up the obvious reason she was asking. “You know being new… trying to figure out who everyone is.”

Jules pushed open the doors that led into the hallway of the locker rooms and froze, Kira followed her.

“It’s like-” Kira stopped dead. Her eyes on the end of the hall.

Jules’s heart beat in her throat.

“That’s a coyote.” Jules said, sounding dumbfounded.

Jules had been caught up on the Malia Tate situation; she had spent the entire morning on the phone with Allison. But seeing a coyote in her high school was an entirely different concept then a coyote in the woods where it belonged.

It, she, Malia, snarled.

“Oh my god.” Kira gasped.

Jules swore colourfully and shoved Kira into the locker room, following right behind her. Jules slammed the door shut as Kira careened further back into the room; Jules was right on her heels. Fear zipped through her veins as she flattened herself against the locker, a terrified Kira was at her side.

“You know, this won’t help us right?” Jules whispered.

Kira didn’t say anything.

The sound of their terrified breathing was interrupted by the shattering of glass and the click of nails on the floor.

Jules nodded to herself.

_Seems about right. Okay, time to die._

The coyote crept through the room, Jules could hear it moving.

_This is stupid. After everything some dumb girl/animal is gonna rip my throat out. Ridiculous._

Her heart hammered as her eyes darted around the locker room.

_This is a shitty place to die._

Kira was frozen next to her, peering around the corner. Jules tried not to think about the last time she was in here.  The way the kiss had felt. Like the moment of peace she was desperately looking for.

The coyote crept close to them; it stood around the corner, snarling at their hiding place. Jules scowled and pushed herself to her feet.

“You know what.” She muttered and placed her hands on the lockers.

_These things can’t be that heavy._

Jules pushed with all her strength and they toppled, sending the animal running.

_Ha!_

She turned to see Scott’s arm outstretched and Kira behind him. Her pride vanished.

_Oh._

“Where the hell did you come from.” She hissed at Scott.

He shushed her as they walked slowly towards the door. The growl of the coyote echoed through the room, and then, it was gone.

Jules let out a sigh of relief and marched for the door. They followed her into the hallway where a crowd was gathering, Jules could hear sirens outside.

“Are you guys okay?” Scott asked them.

Kira nodded silently and thanked him. Jules did nothing but pick up his bag from the ground and shove it at him.

As Kira darted away to see her father, Scott and Jules stood staring at each other. She clenched her jaw.

“Thanks Scott.” She said curtly and began to walk past him.

He turned around; she stopped and looked back at him, eyebrows raised.

“I never thanked you.” He said softly.

Jules knit her brows together. “For what?”

Jules didn’t want to admit it but there were a lot of things he could be thanking her for.

“The motel.” He said.

Jules shrugged. “It was nothing.”

_Well, no._

“No it wasn’t.” Scott pressed. “You didn’t even know me.”

Jules plastered her face with a well-meaning smirk. “That’s big talk coming from yfamilarou. Considering you do you try to save everyone.”

Before Scott could say anything in response, Jules turned around and left, casting a small smile at him as she did.

* * *

 

Jules stood in the parking lot, fumbling with her bike lock as a man strode past. He stopped when he saw her. She looked up at him.

“Can I help you?” She asked irritably.

She didn’t recognize him, but she could see the handle of a gun on his hip and distress on his face. She stepped back.

“Are you Juliet Hayes?” He asked her, he sounded bewildered.

_Gun. I’m Alone. Gun._

She didn’t say anything, her heart hammered and her eyes darted around the empty parking lot. She knew she probably shouldn’t be leaving school but she didn’t care. Almost being killed by a coyote merited a sick day.

_Gun._

She took another step away from him, her vision blurring with the familiar rush of fear driven adrenaline. His eyes darted back to the school and then to her.

_Should I be running? Fighting? Screaming?_

She was frozen, a thousand reasons and explanations for this man raced through her mind, none of them good.

“Who’s asking?” She blurted out, her voice was shaking.

“Mr. Tate!” A voice cut across the parking lot.

It was Sheriff Stilinski, coming out of the school, striding towards them. Mr. Tate turned and walked quickly away, heading for his car.

Jules’s chest heaved and she was hit the realization that her most plausible theory about who that man had been was completely ludicrous.

_Hitman. Oh my god. Why am I like this? A New York City defendant who is rotting in prison is in no position to be snuffing out witnesses on the other side of the country. Jesus fucking Christ, am I dumb?_

“Jules.” The Sheriff appeared in front of her. “Are you okay?”

She yanked her bike lock open. “Yeah. Just a little shaken up. Who was that?”

Stilinski watched as Tate careened out of the school parking lot. “The father of the missing girl.”

Jules sighed, “The coyote?”

“Yeah.” Stilinski sounded resigned. “He uh… he knows your father. I don’t think he knew you were back, I think he might have been” He paused, clearly trying to choose a word that didn’t paint him as a man who probably felt cheated by Jules returning from the grave and his daughter still being gone.

“Surprised.” Stilinski finished.

Jules snorted. “You can just say he’s pissed I’m not dead and Malia is. I won’t be offended.” She pulled on her helmet.

“I don’t think-” He began.

“Have you heard from my mother?” Jules blurted out, cutting him off. “Like, is there any reason she’s away on prosecuting business?”

She regretted asking as soon as the words had fell out. Concern was written all over his face, he opened his mouth to speak.

“Never mind. Forget ab-” Her phone rang, interrupting her dismissal of the conversation. With a sigh and a soft smile Stilinski headed back inside.

“Lydia.” Jules answered in a pained voice.

“Jules, we’re meeting the twins at the loft. They’re gonna help us figure out how to save Malia.” Her words came quickly, likely in fear of being cut off. “And her father is probably about to start hunting her.”

Guilt wormed its way under Jules’s skin and into her chest. “Okay.” Jules sighed and looked back out to the parking lot, where Tate’s car used to be.

“I have a different plan.”

* * *

 

That night at home it hadn’t been difficult for Jules to trick her father into giving her Tate’s address. Despite being married to a lawyer for over eighteen years, he was still very poor at figuring out when people were leading him to an answer. It was easy enough that Jules almost felt bad about pulling all the information she could out of him about the Tate family. Almost.

The next morning Jules rode up to the Tate house, churning up dust as she dropped her bike and helmet.

“Mr. Tate.” Her voice was clear and strong.

Henry Tate was on his porch, a stack of empty looking boxes behind him. He looked to her and stood up.

“Ms. Hayes? I’m sorry for yesterday at the school, I didn’t mean to…” He trailed off. He hadn’t meant to completely freak her out, was what she guessed he might have said.

“It’s fine.” Jules lied as she approached the unkempt home. “I’ve heard you haven’t had an easy past few days.” She softened her voice as she got closer. But as she got closer she could read the boxes. Each of them animal traps.

_Has he been out all night setting these?_

Tate shrugged. “When did you get back?” He asked her pointedly.

Jules climbed the steps to his porch and gestured to a rickety looking stool. He nodded and she sat down, realizing that her intentions with this visit were out the window. Jules had wanted to convince him that hunting down the animal that may or may not have dragged his daughter from the wreck was a terrible idea. He had already started.

“Last February. But I was back at home in August.” She kept her voice level and soft, guileless. Because now she couldn’t stop him from setting the traps, she’d have to convince him to go out and undo it. If that meant opening up, then that was what she would have to do.

_Gain his trust, make him like you, ask the favour. Easy._

She doubted it would actually be that easy.

“I spent those six months in Eichen.” Jules said easily, like it didn’t bother her; like this was something she talked about all the time.

It occurred to Jules that Henry Tate had no idea what had happened to her, not in a real sense. But he didn’t strike her as a complete moron, and probably had a rough theory.

“Why?” He questioned, probably a little harsher then he’d intended to.

“PTSD, anxiety, b-” Jules said easily before trailing off, deciding that disclosing the full extent of her poor mental health was a terrible idea. “It was a good place to recover.”

_Ha, no. That place is hell on earth._

Jules peered into his home through the screen door. Inside were more and more empty boxes that had once held traps, she could tell what kind now, bear traps. The kind of trap that had the potential to cut clean through human flesh and bone, the kind that could kill someone.

_Why did you do this?_

She turned her gaze to him. Grief was written in the lines of his face and years of stress in the way that he sat. She knew why he had done what he did. Closure. Something that she hoped her trial would bring.

_Once something’s over, you can move on. Once he has her body, he can move on._

Nausea settled in her stomach.

_Can he? Can I?_

Henry was quiet, his eyes on a frayed piece of rope hanging from a tree next to his house. Jules guessed it had once been a swing for the girls, and now it was nothing.

“Those girls.” He finally spoke again. “They were all me and my wife wanted. We couldn’t have kids so we adopted.” He explained. Jules nodded in understanding, in support. “The process was hell but when Malia came to us, we knew we would do it all again.” He was speaking just above a whisper when he was finished.

Jules knew that she should try to compartmentalize and remember why she was here. But he’d lost his children, and there was a part of Jules that longed to understand that pain. Of one moment, being a parent and the next having that gone. She wanted to understand what had happened to her family. What she could do to try and fix it.

“What did you do? After, I mean.” Jules spoke as quietly as she could, trying to be as soft as she could be.

But Tate didn’t answer; his eyes were on the rope dangling from the tree, his head braced in his hand. “Can we go inside?” He asked.

Jules stood up and placed a hand on his shoulder, in a way that people always tried to comfort her. Sometimes it worked; it had just depended on who it was.

Tate stood up and walked silently into his empty house.

Jules wondered if he had kept their rooms, the way her parents had kept hers.

* * *

 

Jules was looking through a family photo album Tate had presented to her when he finally spoke again.

“How’s your sister, Abby?” He asked

Jules let a small smile cross her face. Abby was the nickname Gail despised, the only person who dared call her that was their father, and only when Gail wasn’t in the room.

“She’s good, at UCLA, she thinks she’s going to major in biochem.” Jules said lightly. She was proud of her sister, because somehow, despite everything she had managed to create a life for herself.

Tate nodded. “What about you?” He asked.

Jules’s throat tightened around her words. “I can’t think about it. Not until…” She trailed off wondering how many questions Tate would ask or if he knew when to stop. “There’s this trial in November, that’s the farthest thing into the future I can think of right now.” The words rolled off her tongue, mostly because she hadn’t said it and she had been waiting to. Jules had been waiting for months just to say ‘My future doesn’t start until my past is in prison’.

_Until I have closure. Boom, there it is, segue._

“Closure, you know?” She said, her eyes flicking to the traps.

He nodded, catching her glance. But before he could say anything there were heavy footprints on the porch and a sharp rap on the door.

It was the Sheriff, holding a bear trap tightly in his hand, looking furious.

“It’s open.” Tate said gruffly and Stilinski came inside, clearly shocked to see Jules seated at his kitchen table looking at baby pictures of Malia and her sister.

Jules got up from the table and crossed the room to stand near the magnet covered fridge, allowing Stilinski to walk right up to Tate and slammed the trap on the table.

“A jogger on her early morning run almost stepped right into this.” He said harshly.

_Shit._

“Now, you want to tell me exactly how many of those you put out there?” He asked him, though it didn’t sound like a question.

Her eyes flicked down the hall. “Sheriff.” She said in a low voice, her eyes darting to an adjacent room.

Stilinski walked past her inside.

“Sheriff, hold on…” Tate said, following the other man into the room.

Jules sighed and went in after them.

“Oh my god. Some kid could get trapped in one of these.” He muttered and turned on Tate at the sight of dozens of empty boxes. “Some kid could die in one of these.” His voice was cutting.

“My kid died.” Tate said in a broken voice. “Mine.”

Jules scowled. His needing closure was one thing, saying that in response to the mess he made was another.

“And when this animal is dead, does that change anything? Does that make someone else getting hurt worth it?” She asked him.

He frowned. “Is that why you came here?” He sounded betrayed.

Guilt gripped her heart as she bowed her head.

“You and me.” She Sheriff told him. “We’re going out there right now. And we’re going to disarm every single one; I don’t care if it takes all night.” He snapped.

Jules pulled out her phone, realizing she probably should have done this sooner. The idea that people actually jogged or spent any time in these woods was astonishing to her, but Jules realized, she really should have thought of it.

“I’ll call my dad.” She said and the Sheriff nodded, she turned away and glanced up as she brought her phone to her ear.

Her eyes fell on Tate’s torn screen to his back door. She hung up the phone before Noah answered and turned around to see Tate’s fury and the Sheriff’s confusion.

“It’s in the house.” Tate whispered.

_Not this again._

Jules glanced fearfully at the Sheriff as she went to his side, not prepared to have another face down with an angry coyote. She watched in horror as both men pulled out their respective guns. She stayed on Stilinski’s heels as they crept through the house. She watched Tate move outside.

“Tate!” She shouted as she ran down the hall, Stilinski raced past her, calling his name twice.

The sound of a gun being fired burst through the silent air but there was no sign of Henry Tate.

Jules shot a text to Scott.

**_Tate gun woods angry._ **

“What’s the protocol here?” She asked Stilinski has he walked around the house to his car.

He pulled out his radio. “I want those woods cleared of hikers, joggers, anybody else who might be one those trails.”

Stilinski’s phone rang and he hung up the radio.

“Stiles.” He said as he answered and put the phone on speaker. “Jules and I are at Tate’s.”

“To be clear, Tate is not here.” She said frantically, it fast dawning on her that everything had gone horribly wrong.

“Malia took the doll.” Stilinski told his son.

“That too.” Jules muttered, her heartrate sky rocketing.

“It took the doll again? What the hell is so important about this doll?” Stiles asked. Jules hoped it was a rhetorical question, because it wasn’t actually that relevant.

“Who cares?” Jules interjected. “Tate has a gun and a vendetta!” She shouted angrily.

“Listen to me .There are traps all over the woods.” Sheriff told him. “Near the trails. Probably near the car crash.”

“Bear traps!” Jules shouted at the phone. “Full blown, clamping down with metal teeth, lethal, fox and the hound traps!”

Stilinski shot her a look that plainly said ‘Are you done?’

“And Tate is out there with a rifle.” The Sheriff reiterated. “I want you to stay out of those woods, you go that?”

Jules’s face fell and Stiles said nothing.

“Stiles?” He said again.

“It’s the doll.” Stiles said to someone who probably wasn’t them, he sounded like realization had hit like a freight train.

“Stiles?” Stilinski asked again but his son had hung up. He turned to Jules, a look of extreme exasperation and worry etched into his features. “They’re in the woods aren’t they?”

Jules felt ill, “Oh yeah.”

* * *

Lydia couldn’t believe it when Malia Tate was marched into the Sheriff station and greeted by paramedics escorting her to clothes that weren’t some random teenager’s jackets and a shower. She saw Jules staring numbly at Malia. And it hit Lydia like a punch to the gut when she resigned to having no idea what was going through Jules’s head. But it didn’t matter. Because her horrifying experience with the bear trap had solidified two things she already knew.

  1. Stiles Stilinski was a genius.
  2. Juliet Hayes was one of the best friend’s she could ask for.



Lydia left Stiles’s side and walked carefully up to Jules, the way one might approach an unfamiliar dog. Something unpredictable with the potential to be deadly. Because that was Juliet Hayes now, and Lydia was determined to hold onto her even if she was just an echo of the girl she knew. She would get to know her again. Because even if Jules wanted out of the supernatural Lydia wasn’t letting her walk out of her life, not without completely knowing the person who was walking away.

Jules was watching her, reading her, her head slightly tilted, leaning on the wall, away from the focus of the room. Everything about her posture was distinctly un-Jules like, something Lydia was taking the time now to notice.

_New Jules. New mannerisms._

“Before you say anything.” Lydia said to her. “I’m going to talk.”

Jules nodded, “Sounds fair, considering I’m the asshole here.”

Lydia shut her eyes and let out a soft sigh. “I cornered you. I shouldn’t have done that. I shouldn’t have just walked into your home and told you what I thought. I should have told you what I know.”

Jules quirked her notched eyebrow, a gesture reminiscent of the girl Lydia grew up. “And what do you know?”

Lydia could tell she was trying to come off easy, unbothered.

“I know that I nearly had my leg cut off by a bear trap today.” She admitted.

Jules looked about ready to kill someone. That was the new Jules. Her first instinct to protect someone form something was to fight. But she stayed quiet; since it was clear Lydia wasn’t finished.

“And I realized that I don’t want you to walk away because I don’t think you can handle this or because you’re not strong enough or whatever nonsensical crap came out of my mouth two nights ago.” She said shortly, still severely disappointed in how she’d handled Jules. Her old friend took Lydia’s opinion like truth, which is why telling her what she thought would have worked on Jules three years ago. Lydia was certain that the Jules that stood in front of her valued what people thought, about as much as people valued the penny.

“Stiles fixed it, obviously.” She said, glancing at him, Jules’s gaze stayed on him a moment longer than necessary and Lydia’s heart twinged uncomfortably. Because they’d be perfect for each other, but not when Stiles was losing his mind, and not when Jules had one foot out the door, not when she should be walking out of it.

“And I thought of you.” Lydia continued when Jules’s attention was back on her, her eyes locked intently on Lydia’s. “Because Stiles had to figure it out, and you could’ve done the same thing. But I know you wouldn’t have.”

An offended look passed over Jules’s face as she opened her mouth to interrupt.

“Because,” Lydia continued, stopping Jules before she started. “The first thing you would have done is put your foot next to mine, pressed down and pushed me out.” The truth of it stuck in her throat and was heavy in her chest. “You would have taken my place, and that scares the hell out of me.”

Lydia waited for Jules to say something in response, to argue that she would have done something differently. The way that the Jules Lydia had known inside and out would have done. But she didn’t. Instead she did something Lydia couldn’t remember seeing her do. She relented.

“Hell yeah, that’s what I would have done.” She sounded proud, but her voice was rough, maybe it had always been that way. And Lydia could hear the New York accent now that she was listening for it.

Lydia waited for her to continue but it looked like she was finished.

“Your lack of self-preservation is concerning.” Lydia said pointedly. “I don’t know what you’re capable of handling, but I know you’re capable of poor decision making.”

“I don’t have a death wish.” Jules said petulantly.

“I know that.” Lydia said softly. “I know that you need to walk away. You are to ready to drop everything to save someone else when you have no way of protecting yourself. I don’t want to see what that does to you.”

Jules held Lydia’s gaze, a grim and fiery determination settled in her eyes. “I don’t want to lose anyone, not again. So yeah, I’ve put my life on the line for you, for other people.” She got up off of the wall, standing up with her shoulders straight. Without heels on she would have been about two inches taller than Lydia. Despite Lydia looking down at her friend, Jules seemed like a titan.

“And I’d do it again.” She finished, her voice was heavy but strong and she moved to walk past Lydia, but Lydia caught her hand in her own.

“I know that. That’s why I know that you need to take a step back, because we don’t want to lose you either.” Lydia felt her eyes burn and something inside of her broke. “I’ve done that once.” She said in a shattered voice, tears welled in her eyes. “I’m not doing it again.”

Jules looked back at Lydia, mirroring her broken expression; she yanked Lydia into a bone crushing hug and said nothing.

Lydia didn’t know exactly who it was she was holding, but she knew that whoever she was needed space, needed time. But Lydia wasn’t just going to be cut out, not without one hell of a fight.

* * *

 

**So that's it until September, I hope everyone enjoyed and I will return with the rest of 3b. But my non existent computer access is a definite hindrance to my updating abilities over the summer. Hope everyone has had a great end of year and has a great summer! Thank you so much for the continued support!**

 


	23. Galvanize

**Author Note: Hey everyone, I hope you all had a great summer! I’m going to warn you that it might take a few weeks for me to get back in the rhythm of writing and updating a quickly as normal, I spent about ten weeks in the forest and coming back to the big ass city where I live is one hell of a culture shock. But anyways, I’ll try my best to stick to a reasonable schedule (like I’m thinking weekly?), I’m really glad that you’ve all stuck with this and are still reading, it means a lot to me and yeah… here we go.**

** Chapter Twenty Three – Galvanize **

* * *

 

Jules stared at the dress laid out in front of her. She hated it. She hated the pale blue and the button collar and the way it fell awkwardly below her knees. Most of all, she hated that she was going to sit in front of a room of people and try to convince them that she was a victim. All while trying not to think of the itch of the fabric at her neck.

Jules had never been more nervous for anything in her life, it didn’t help that she was going to be physically uncomfortable as well.

Pots clattered in the kitchen. They reminded Jules that Charlotte had whisked into their home the night before like nothing had happened. No speak of divorce. But Jules couldn’t stop thinking about the envelope under her bed and whether or not her mother had really fond the courage to send it. Or it she would have found the courage not to.

Jules hung the dress back up and pulled a brand new leather jacket down; it had been hung on her doorknob with a sticky note with a smiley face and a heart on it. The jacket had come from her mother’s favorite boutique in L.A, something with a French name Jules couldn’t pronounce. She shrugged it on and grabbed her backpack, none of her school supplies were in it. Mostly because she wasn’t going and partly because she didn’t feel like lugging her textbooks to the hospital.

Jules skirted past her silent mother and still father as she went out the door, leaving them to whatever conversation they weren’t having. Had Gail been home she would have called them out, but Jules couldn’t. What could she say about their problems when she was almost certain she was all of them?

* * *

 

Jules was quick to decide that free vaccinations were the best thing that happened to America. She didn’t care who or why someone had decided to find a round of HPV vaccines for the young woman of Beacon Hills. But she thought more people should be taking advantage of it.

Jules tried not to feel corralled as a nurse led her down a hallway into an open examination room.

“Someone will be with you in a moment; can I have your name?” She asked pleasantly.

“Do you need it?” Jules asked tentatively, hoping her question said enough.

The nurse gave her a small smile and backed off, leaving the room.  Jules took off her jacket and rolled up her sleeve in preparation for the needle. She sat still on the bed, watching the tiny sliver of a window, irked when a deputy passed by. And then another, and another, and then the Sheriff. Jules got to her feet and opened the door, immediately regretting it as Stilinski turned to face the noise.

_Why did I do this? He’ll tell someone._

Jules resisted the urge to slap herself in the face. Stilinski crossed his arms.

“How did Stiles found out?” He asked in a hushed voice.

Jules frowned and quirked a brow, “Find out what?” She pressed, her heartbeat picking up.

A look of genuine confusion crossed over the Sheriff’s face. “You’re not here because…” He trailed off, realizing that he’d said too much.

“Because what?” Jules pressed nervously, knowing that anything that involved both him and Stiles wasn’t good.

“Nothing.” He dismissed unconvincingly. “Why aren’t you at school?”

Jules’s heart shot up into her throat. “I am at school.” She told him.

For a moment he looked oddly conflicted and on the verge on saying something. Instead he gave her a small smile and gestured to the deputies walking away. Jules said nothing and watched him walk away, torn between wanting to know and wanting absolutely nothing to do with the moment’s crisis.  She backed into the exam room and sat herself once again on the table. Jules only half listened when the nurse came in and walked her through the vaccine and the nausea she might have afterwards. The needle stung in the familiar way that Jules almost enjoyed, reminding her that there were so many things that she wasn’t over yet.

* * *

 

Lydia stared at Jules’s empty seat, half annoyed and half concerned. It wasn’t unlike Jules to blow off a class on occasion, but it was concerning that she hadn’t even gotten to school yet. Charlotte would have pushed her out the door, which meant that she had left her house. She just wasn’t at school. She tapped away on her phone, mentally begging for a response; usually Jules was good about that.

**_Where the hell are you?_ **

**_Is something wrong?_ **

**_Hello?_ **

**_I’m going to keep helicoptering until you answer me._ **

**_This isn’t funny, when you fall off the face of the earth I just assume you’ve done something idiotic and you’re in the hospital._ **

Lydia tapped her foot and tried to ignore the buzzing sound in her ears.

**_Well, I am at the hospital._ **

Lydia’s stomach lurched; she could almost hear Jules nonchalance through the message.

**_Actually, I’m leaving the hospital. Free vaccines!!!_ **

Lydia let out a sigh of relief.

**_Come to school, its mischief night. Don’t you live for that kind of thing?_ **

As soon as Lydia sent the text she regretted it. Jules used to live for causing mayhem on mischief night. Past tense. Lydia didn’t know what she would be doing now.

Lydia batted at the fly buzzing around her head, growing infuriated with the insect. She turned and caught Danny’s confused gaze.

“There’s a fly.” She explained, ignoring Danny’s look of disbelief.

Lydia gazed up at the ceiling, the sound of the fly blending into that of the fluorescent light above her. Her phone buzzed.

**_There’s enough weird shit going on without me contributing, don’t you agree?_ **

Lydia looked up at the fly that didn’t exist.

_Yeah, I guess I do._

* * *

 

Anna Hannigan watched as Juliet Hayes braced herself at the door of her home. Anna was expecting a client, just not this one. Her blonde hair curling out of its braid and her eyes ringed with too many nights of not enough sleep. Despite how disheveled she was Juliet wore a look of grim determination that made Anna nervous. There were few people who took getting a tarot reading seriously, even fewer teenagers. Anna rung her hands as Juliet finally summoned the courage she needed and pressed the doorbell.

Ordinarily Anna would have jumped to her feet to receive a customer, but for a moment she contemplated. She was familiar enough with Juliet’s life to know that she ran in the same circle as Scott McCall. And it was no secret to anyone with their eyes open that Scott was very entrenched in the strange happenings of Beacon Hills. Anna wasn’t sure she wanted anything to do with Juliet and the harsh look on her face.

Juliet knocked on the door.

Anna sighed and got to her feet, her heart crawling up into her throat as she approached the door. Anna swung it open, brushing aside some of her coarse brown hair and putting on her most welcoming smile.

“Hi I’m Jules.” She said stiffly. “I left a message.”

Anna decided not to tell Jules that she had forgotten to give her name.  Anna’s hope that she could shoo Jules away because someone else was booked, to die. 

“Yes of course.” She stepped aside to let Jules in. “Take a seat in the living room, would you like anything to drink?”

Jules shook her head no and stiffly sat down as Anna shut her door, giving one last look to the quiet street before turning back to Jules. Anna took her seat across from her and avoided Jules’s eyes, hating that she was intimidated by a teenage girl. Anna didn’t want to admit that something about her was endlessly threatening. It was something she didn’t want in her house.

Anna picked up her deck, feeling incredibly watched as Jules tracked each of her movements as she put the stack of cards on the table.

“You shuffle.” Anna instructed meekly, “Then lay five out in a row.”

Jules did as she was told, methodically shuffling the cards, turning them over and over in her scarred hands. Anna couldn’t help but notice a tremor as she did; perhaps Jules was just as nervous as she was. But Anna wasn’t getting that feeling. Everything about Jules felt like it was in motion, the bonce of her knees and the swirl of anger and pain and sorrow that radiated off of her. She was a thousand terrible things at once. Anna’s stomach churned, something about her was very new and very wrong.

Jules laid out the cards, Anna watched her closely. She noticed something flicker behind Jules’s eyes, something maybe only someone like her would see. Her heart pounded, something about her was frighteningly off.

Jules raised her eyes to Anna’s, her expression still and calm. She quirked an eyebrow, “Now what?”

Anna cleared her throat and tried to clear her head. Countless things were off quilter in Beacon Hills, especially since the lunar eclipse when god knows what had happened. It terrified Anna to know that not even a human teenager like Jules could stay out of it.

Anna tapped the card farthest to Jules’s left, “This is your present position, where you are now and how you’re feeling.” She explained, not looking at Jules as she continued down, “Next is your present desires, what you want now.” She glanced up to make sure Jules was following, she nodded in response. “And then in the middle is the unexpected, the fourth card is the immediate future-”

“After the unexpected?” Jules interrupted.

Anna nodded, “And then finally the outcome. Understand?” Anna asked, eager to get this over with.

Jules nodded and leaned forward, “So I turn them over?”

“You turn I interpret, you turn I interpret, and so on.” Anna clarified.

Jules stared frozen at the first card, her expression unreadable. Anna was about to tell her that she didn’t have to carry on if she didn’t want to, but in one quick motion Jules flipped the card.

“An old man.” She said flatly, looking to Anna for an explanation.

“The Hermit.” Anna said, “It represents being introspective, looking for your own answers.” She said in a soft voice, searching Jules’s face for a reaction, instead she found a new softness. “You find yourself stepping back.” Anna continued, “But you’re afraid of isolating yourself, of being as alone as maybe you think you are.”

Something dark flickered in her eyes; it rose up quickly just to disappear again.

_She’s not alone._

Anna forced away nausea and waited for Jules to have a question, or a comment. But she was silent and tapped the next card.

“Can I?” She asked quietly.

Anna nodded and watched as she turned it to reveal the four of swords, the card that Anna took most pride in having drawn herself. She was incredibly proud of the stain glass window of the church.

“The four of swords.” Anna told her, “A knight at rest with a promise to return to his duty.” She described, Jules studied the card with her jaw clenched and her hand reaching for a necklace that she wasn’t wearing. “You want time to recover, to gather your strength so that you can face what comes next. If you really are stepping back, now would be the time to rest.” Anna said.

“Wouldn’t it be?” Jules muttered, likely to herself.

Anna sighed, Jules physically looked tired from lack of sleep but her exhaustion went so much deeper than that. It wasn’t often she came across someone so young who was already so world weary. She felt the familiar tug on her heart that came with caring too much too quickly about her clients. She took a calming breath reminding herself that something about Jules, inside of Jules, was inherently wrong. Like an open wound that was just beginning to fester. Or a door that refused to close. Jules flipped over the middle card, bracing herself as she did it. The ace of swords lay on the table, to Anna it was right side up, which meant for Jules it was reversed. Jules made a move to turn it over but Anna shook her head.

“It has a different meaning this way.” She told her.

Jules looked up at Anna, “You don’t look happy about it.”

Anna frowned at the card, displeased that it had given her the word she’d been looking for to describe Jules.

_Chaos._

She looked back to Jules, seeing nothing of that in her still demeanor but she could feel it nonetheless.

“Chaos.” Anna said finally. "Isn't good or bad. None of the cards are inherently one way." She tried to assure. "Everything has a silver lining."

Jules looked at her, eyebrows raised in obvious disbelief. Anna brought her eyes up to meet hers. She could tell Jules was looking for elaboration where there was none. For Jules that was all the card was telling.

“That’s it.” Her voice was flat, “Just chaos.” Jules echoed and scoffed, rolling her eyes as she flipped over the next card. “Chaos.” She mumbled, shaking her head. “How the hell am I supposed to expect chaos?” She asked more clearly.

Anna didn’t answer; she was studying the newly revealed card. Her stomach churning, Jules wouldn’t like this one, not because of whom or what she was now but because of what she had probably been.

“The ten of swords is associated with being a victim.” She said, not meeting Jules’s eyes. “Usually of betrayal.”

Jules drummed her hand on the table, noticeably growing impatient. In one last swift motion she turned over the final card.

“Fucking stellar.” She muttered as she stared down at the face of death.

Anna was quick to do as she always did and jump into the defense of the Death card. “It means change.” She said quickly. “Death marks the end of one thing and the beginning of another.”

“What?” Jules snapped, “Strife instead of chaos?” She deadpanned.

Anna pursed her lips, “Very funny.” She swept up the cards, “You don’t seem bothered.”

Jules shrugged and pulled her phone out of her pocket, turning it on. She bounced her knees incessantly. Anna opened her mouth to invite her out but Jules shot to her feet, cutting her off.

“Thanks.” She said as she tossed a twenty dollar bill on the table where the cards had been. And before Anna could say anything in response Jules was out the door.

* * *

 

As soon as Jules knew she was out of sight of Anna’s home she sprinted down the street, her heart pounded and her lungs screamed in her chest. Jules threw herself into an alleyway off the street, her back against the cold brick wall. Every single thing that Jules should have felt during the reading bubbled up in her chest. She had surprised herself with managing to keep it together while faced with her own stupidity in getting a reading. Not to mention the dismal outlook of the reading itself.

_Chaos? What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Everything has already gone to shit._

Jules brought her fist back into the wall behind her, hoping the sting would help ground her just a bit. It didn’t, she still felt like she couldn't breathe. Jules slid down the wall, burying her head in her hands. Blood rushed in her ears, replacing any sound from her surroundings. Her eyes burned.

_What the hell? What the hell? What the hell?_

Jules leapt to her feet and kicked a garbage bin. “What the hell!” She screamed her hands balled into fists.

She didn’t want to believe Anna and her dumb cards. But everything was already spiraling so unfortunately the reading made sense even though she didn’t want it to.

“Why does crazy shit make sense?” She screamed again.

A passing car honked at her and kept driving; she flipped them off and kicked the overturned can once more. Then she stood frozen with her hands balled into fists, her breath was hard and heavy, her skin crawled with the feeling of being watched.

Slowly she turned to the end of the alley to find it empty but the feeling didn’t fade. But as she continued to examine her surroundings she realized it wasn’t the feeling of being watched. It was the feeling of someone standing right behind her, dancing in and out of her peripheral vision. But her back was flat against a freezing brick wall.

_It’s coming back. I’m losing my mind again._

Jules stared at her own shadow, not understanding how it could be her only company. She trusted her instincts, but how could she when they were telling her she wasn’t alone when she was?

Her phone rang, cutting through the eerie silence and giving Jules a distraction from whatever was going on inside of her head. She picked up without checking the caller ID.

“Hey-” She began, figuring it was Lydia.

“Are you at school?” Came Stiles’s frantic voice over the phone.

“No.” She answered, her heart thudding hard in her chest for no reason other than him calling her. She hated it.

“Don’t come.” He told her. “Actually they wouldn’t let you in anyway, so there wouldn’t be a point, unless they wanted to-”

“Stiles!” She shouted, the bitter taste of fear settled in her mouth. “What the hell is going on?”

He took a breath, she could he was debating whether or not to tell her.

“Stiles either you tell me or I’m gonna come down there and-” She began to threaten.

“William Barrow escaped from prison and wants to blow up kids with glowing eyes. They’re searching the school.” He spat out in a low voice.

Jules stared at the wall across from her, her mind blank. She knew there was absolutely nothing she could do to help them.

“Jules.” Stiles said, bringing her back into focus. “Promise me you will not do something stupid.”

He sounded so sincere Jules swore her heart physically ached with the question, 'Why do you care so much?'

“Me? Do something stupid? You’re the one who’s in a building with a psychopath.” She said, trying to mask the growing tremor in her voice.

_Lydia, Stiles, Scott, Allison, Isaac… literally everyone I give a shit about is in that building._

Her breath caught in her throat.

“Jules, if you don’t actually tell me you’re not going to do something absurdly and dangerously insane I won’t believe you.” Stiles pressed. “You need to say the words-”

“I don’t make promises I can’t keep.” Jules interrupted him.

“Oh my g-” He began but Jules hung up on him.

She hadn’t intended on setting foot anywhere near Beacon Hills High School,but plans change.

* * *

 

Jules slammed her bike into the curb of the school, nearly going over the handle bars. She threw it and her helmet to the ground as she sprinted for the stairs. But she froze at the bottom as one by one every deputy and Agent McCall came down the steps, followed by a frantic Stiles. She made sure to shoot Rafael a look of unadulterated hatred before running up to meet the Stiles and his father. Jules tried not to think about the fact that she and Stiles hadn’t had a pleasant interaction in weeks. She wondered first if it was her fault and second if she should ignore it.

_Should we talk? About like feelings crap?_

She shook the thought from her head and listened as Stiles tried to convince his father to stay. But Lydia’s “supernatural feeling” was not a solid argument.

“Nobody comes in, nobody comes out.” The Sheriff said as he turned away, glancing at Jules with a look of profound disappointment. She waved.

“Can I go in?” She asked lightly,

“No.” Both Stilinski’s said immediately.

“That’s the best I can do right now Stiles.” Stilinski told him.

“Leaving me here.” He pointed to himself. “That is not… that is the worst.”

But the Sheriff was walking away, Stiles stared blankly at him. Jules shoved her hands in her jacket pockets.

“So… like… what’s the plan?” She asked, making sure to stand at a distance he would notice.

Stiles gaped at her, “I’m not gonna tell you the plan because you’re going anywhere else but here. Because you can’t even come inside, police orders.” He said far too authoritatively for Jules to take serious.

She raised her eyebrows, following him as he headed back inside. She was surprised that he wasn’t treading around her. Stiles was acting the way he used to, before the eclipse. It was weird, but if he could then so, she figured, could she. “I guess I’ll just have to tail you then. Or ask Scott, or Isaac.”

A strange look passed over Stiles’s face, not quickly enough for him to hide it. He turned to Jules, towering over her from the step above. She looked up at him, remembering how much she wasn’t afraid of him. Remembering that she trusted him.

“Fine.” He said, sounding if possible more exasperated than he did before. “But if I think that you might be about to do something even a little bit mildly stupid I-”

“Will put me on one of those toddler leashes, I get it.” She said a little harsher then she’d intended to. “Can we go now?”

Stiles over dramatically yanked open the door and held it for her, “One stupid thing.” He warned pointing at her.

Jules let a smile worm its way onto her face, “Define stupid?”

“Oh my god.” Stiles deadpanned, trying and failing to suppress a smirk. “I’m going to have a stroke because of you.”

* * *

 

Jules watched as Allison pushed out the window.

“The beastiary is literally 1000 pages long. If I’m going to find anything about flies coming out of people’s bodies, it could take me all night.” She said.

Jules folded her arms over her chest and glanced at Stiles, then back to Allison. “Shouldn’t you be telling her that we’re on lockdown and no one should leave?”

Jules could feel Lydia rolling her eyes, Stiles didn’t look impressed.

“And remember, the word in archaic Latin for fly is Musca.” Lydia reminded Allison as she climbed out the window.

Lydia turned to Stiles, “Where do we start?” She asked.

“Upstairs.” Stiles answered, glancing at the clock. “We gotta go.”

Jules followed them out of the room. “No, really? I thought we should waste time.”

* * *

 

The only thing Stiles knew for sure about the art room was that it was creepy and it had a million places to hide. The three of them checked behind every easel, and in every one of the countless storage cupboards.

“Scott and Isaac are in the basement, right?” Lydia reconfirmed.

“Yeah, with Ethan and Aiden. The plan is we meet in the middle, in the boiler room.” Stiles explained.

Jules shot up from underneath a table, “How is the boiler room the middle? Wouldn’t it make more sense to…Hey? Are you okay?”

Stiles turned around to see Lydia’s frightened expression and Jules wrought with concern. Her eyes on a crappy art project behind Lydia.

“All of the wolves… all of the ones with glowing eyes are in the basement at the boiler room?” Lydia reiterated.

“Oh my god.” Stiles said, his heart leaping into overdrive.

_How did I miss that?_

Jules ducked under a table and popped back up next to Lydia. “It’s okay, maybe we’re not as stupid as we think we are. It’s not like Barrow is a brilliant engineer or anything.” She said her hands shoved into her pockets.

“An engineer could use the boiler room to blow up the whole school.” He looked at Jules, her expression faraway. 

“We have to get them out of there.” Lydia said.

“We have to get everyone out.” Stiles pressed, trying to force away his building panic. He glanced at Jules.

“How do we do that?” Lydia asked frantically.

Jules snapped back into focus and hit them both on the shoulder, Stiles tried to ignore how badly he wanted things to be right with her again. 

“Fire.” She said

The three of them sprinted into the hallway, Stiles was tripping over his own feet as they scrambled out the door.  Jules and Lydia acted as nonchalant as they could while Stiles pulled down on the alarm. Stiles watched as both of their expression’s fell and Jules suppressed a laugh with a smile that seemed sadly foreign on her face. 

 Reluctantly Stiles turned to find himself face to face with a livid Coach. He sighed, unsurprised as he was dragged out of the school by his ear.

* * *

 

Jules followed close behind Lydia as they left the school, her stomach churning with nausea.

_We are not nearly far enough from this school. We’re all dead. We’re all going to die._

Jules braced herself on her knees as Coach shouted at Stiles. “I’m gonna vomit.” She muttered.

Lydia grabbed her hand and pulled her up, “No you’re not.” She told Jules.

“Thanks, you’ve cured my nausea.” Jules said dryly.

Lydia wasn’t paying attention as she led them across the parking lot to the others.

“We didn’t find anything.” Aiden told them.

“Not even a scent.” Scott said.

Jules sat down on the bench, looking up at her friends, trying to think.

“It’s 3:00, so school’s over. If there as a bomb wouldn’t he have set if off by now?” Stiles asked.

“Does that mean everybody’s safe?” Ethan tried to assure.

 “I don’t know.” Lydia answered him. Jules looked up at her; it was rare for Lydia to be at a loss, it pained Jules to know that was how she was feeling.

“I just… I don’t know.”

For a moment everyone was silent, looking at each other for answers. Jules rubbed her eyes.

“What if you guys aren’t the targets?” She offered. “What if we’re looking in the wrong places?”

Stiles sat down next to her, Jules looked at him, ignoring the prying eyes of everyone else.

“What do you mean?” he asked, searching her face for a clue.

“We need Allison to hurry it up with the beastiary.” Her eyes flicked to the others. “Why flies? That has to be important.”

Jules felt tiny under everyone else’s gaze, but what else was she supposed to say? There was no possible way everyone was safe with Barrow still out there.  Not that any of them were safe to begin with, butJules figured that went unsaid.

* * *

 

Jules lay opposite to Lydia, staring at the elaborate mind map that decorated Stiles’s bedroom walls. She wondered whether or not he had started this after the eclipse or before. It suddenly hit her that this was her first time in a boy's bedroom and how pathetic that was.

_All my firsts, Stiles Stilinski._

She ejected the thought from her head, hating that she'd had it at all.

“What do the different colored strings mean?” Lydia's voice cut through the silence.

Jules thought it was obvious, color coding was simple. She sat up, trying to ignore the twinge in her side that came from too much lying on her back.

“Just different stages of the investigation.” Stiles answered. “So green is solved, yellow is to be determined and blue’s just pretty.” He glanced at Jules.

She looked away from him. Trying not to think about the fact that her eyes were blue.

“What does red mean?” Lydia asked.

_Physiological color association says it means nothing good._

“Unsolved.” Stiles said lightly.

“You only have red on the board.” Lydia pointed out.

“Yes,” He turned to them. “I’m aware. Thank you.” He said, harsher then Jules liked but she wasn’t in the mood to say anything about it.

Lydia sighed, “Did you get detention for pulling the alarm?”

“Yep. Every day this week. It’s okay though, we were onto something.” He told her.

Lydia didn’t look like she believed him.

“We did the right thing.” Jules said strongly. “If we were right and we hadn’t gotten everyone out…” Jules trailed off. “Well, we wouldn’t be here talking about it.”

Lydia played with the spool of red string. “Even though we couldn’t find any proof of Barrow being there?” She asked quietly.

Jules nudged Lydia’s shoulder, “Don’t you dare start to doubt yourself now. That’s not Lydia. That’s nonsense.”

Stiles crouched in front of her. “You’ve been right every time something like this has happened, okay? So,” He glanced at Jules. “Don’t starting doubting yourself now.” He echoed what she said.

“No scent. No bomb.” She stared at her hands. “And I got you in trouble.”

Stiles began unwinding the string from Lydia's finger, Jules watched him do it. “Okay, look, Barrow was there. All right? You knew it, you felt it? Okay?”

Jules meant to say something but she was too busy looking at the way Lydia was looking at Stiles.

_I’m so confused._

“And look if you wanted to, I’d go back to that school right now and search all night just to prove it.” He tossed the string away from her hand, looking back at her.

Jules’s stomach clenched as she realized she didn’t need to be there. She thought back to when she and Lydia were younger and Stiles was always following them around, head over heels with Lydia. Jules wondered how long that had gone on after she'd disappeared. 

_I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care._

Stiles played with the marker in his hands, still looking at her.

_I care. Shit. I care. Should I tell her? Should I tell him? No, are you insane? Tell nothing to nobody, oh my god. Is he sniffing the marker?_

“If you want to get high there are easier ways to do it.” She blurted out, upset with herself that she was trying to get his attention.

“Get up. Get up now.” He said to them. “We’re going to the school.”

Jules scrambled off the bed, not meeting either of their eyes. Sometimes Jules forgot that there was so much history amongst the four of them that she wasn’t a part of. The only time she’d asked about the past was when she’d asked Stiles to tell her what happened after Scott got bitten. And he’d left out most of the interpersonal parts.

_Since you’ve acknowledged that you give a crap, you should probably ask._

Jules followed the two of them to the jeep, not entirely sure she’d like the answers she got.

* * *

 

The last time Jules had been in Beacon Hills High School at night she had nearly been killed by her English teacher. Because of that, she wasn’t exactly eager to be there after dark. Especially since Stiles was being annoyingly discrete about why they had come.

“So what are we looking for?” Lydia asked for about the third time.

“Well, here’s another non answer Lydia.” Jules said as Stiles opened a chemical storage closet.

“That was supposed to be locked.” She pointed out.

“And werewolves aren’t supposed to exist, and yet…” She trailed off, ignoring Lydia's look of displeasure.

“Yeah I know.” Stiles said nervously. “Notice anything else?”

“It smells like chemicals.” Lydia observed as Jules stifled a cough.

“They wouldn’t have been able to catch his scent.” Lydia realized.

Jules’s heart jolted in her chest as she looked down, “Blood.”  She crouched down across from Stiles. “He was here, doing…” She looked at him, “Surgery?”

“Performing very minor surgery on himself.” He said, almost disbelieving, the two of them looked up at Lydia. “You were right.” Stiles said.

“What did we tell you?” Jules said, shooting her a small smile.

“Then why don’t I feel good about this?” She asked.

“Maybe because we just proved there was a psychotic bomber really, really close to us.” Jules offered.

“Or probably because he was here to kill somebody.” Stiles added.

Jules nodded, “That to.”

“But who?” Lydia pressed.

“That’s what we’ve gotta figure out.” Stiles said, getting up.

Jules followed, “And preferably before it’s too late.”

Stiles walked towards the front of the room, “We could spread out start looking for… anything.” He said growing jittery.

“No good plan starts with the words ‘we could spread out’.” Jules said definitively.

Stiles turned, “Especially not with you involved.” He said lightly.

Jules quirked a brow, “What? And you’re the poster boy for good decision making?” Returning the jab, as they started searching the lab benches.

Lydia approached the front of the room where a series of numbers were scrawled on the board.

“Lydia what are those?” Stiles asked.

“Atomic numbers.” She answered in a hollow voice.

Stiles and Jules exchanged a look of concern and came to stand on either side of her, Jules was regarding Lydia intently.

“Is it a formula?” Stiles asked.

Jules furrowed her brow, “They have matching letters. It could spell something.” She offered.

Lydia pursed her lips, “And what exactly could you spell with potassium, iodine and radium?” She asked sardonically. “The first two make potassium iodide.” She said as she picked up the piece of chalk and wrote down the letter that represented each element.

“Potassium is K?” Stiles asked as she wrote.

Jules looked at him, confusion written on her face, “Are you not a senior chemistry student?”

“It’s from kalium.” Lydia explained. “The scientific neo-Latin name.” She said.

Jules rolled her eyes, “That’s not important, what’s important is you just spelled Kira.” Jules froze. “You just spelled Kira.” She repeated her voice deadly serious as she looked to her friends.

“Where does Kira live?” Lydia asked urgently.

Stiles gave her a dramatic shrug as Jules flipped through her phone.

“Her dad invited Scott and I to a ‘Thanks for not letting my daughter get eaten by coyote’ dinner. I didn’t go cause Scott wanted to...” She held up her phone, showing the address and cutting herself off. “Here.”

Stiles looked at it and then the three of them sprinted from the room, Jules was increasingly impressed by all the runningLydia did in her heels.

* * *

 

There were few things more terrifying to Jules then coming across a friend unconscious in the middle of the road. She banged on the ground next to Scott's head, reminding herself that she had stupidly punched a wall earlier that day.

“Scott!” She shouted, her voice mingling with Stiles’s and Lydia’s.

Scott’s eyes opened slightly before he shot upright, “Barrow! He took Kira!” He shouted.

"We know. He was after her the whole time.” Stiles quickly explained.

“Isaac.” Scott said.

Jules furrowed her brow, “No, Kira.” She crouched down in front of him. “What did he hit you with?” Jules shined her phone flashlight in Scott’s eyes. Scott waved it away.

“No, we need to call them, find out what they know.” Scott said as he dug out his phone and climbed to his feet.

Jules stepped back as Scott called Isaac, she watched as Lydia stood, out of focus.

“Does it have to do with the buzzing?” She asked.

Lydia nodded, looking at Jules; fear was written plain on her face. Jules awkwardly put her hands in her pockets as she listened to Isaac disappoint Scott.

“All right, thanks.” Scott said as he hung up and turned back to them. “We have to think of something, he’s going to kill her.”

“Calling the police.” Jules offered. “His motive might be supernatural but…” She trailed off at the look Lydia gave her. “Fine.” Jules said petulantly. “Thinking like the police.”

“I knew he was there.” Lydia said. “How did I know that?”

“Because you heard the flies, right?” Stiles asked her.

Jules began to pace, growing more and more agitated. Wondering why exactly calling the cops was some kind of outrageous idea. Even though they didn't have any information that would actually help, no yet.

_Where did Barrow work? He was an electrical engineer so at some kind of… anywhere. He could have worked anywhere because all kinds of places employ engineers!_

She pressed her hands to her temples, overwhelmed by her own thoughts.

“What do you hear now?” Scott asked urgently.

Jules looked over at Lydia, trying to push away her own building panic. And trying to push the word ‘chaos; from her head.

_This seems like a spiral doesn’t it? Things are spiraling? This feels very spiral-y._

“Nothing.” Lydia said. “I feel like I can do this, but I don’t know what to do.” She sounded frustrated and rightfully so. “It’s like it’s on the tip of my tongue, and I don’t know how to trigger it.” She ran her hands through her hair, Stiles watched her closely. Jules could see the gears turning in his head.

“I swear to god it literally makes me want to scream.” She said finally.

Jules turned to Lydia, “Hey.” Lydia glanced at her, eyebrows raised. “Wailing woman, scream.” Jules told her.

“Scream.” Stiles urged. “Lydia, scream.”

Jules didn’t even have a second to brace herself before Lydia screamed.  Jules nearly doubled over, her hands on her ears and her heart pounding. She felt Stiles put his hand on her back; Jules couldn’t find the will to shake him off. It pained her to admit it, but she wanted him there. She wanted things like they were before.

_No you don’t._

Jules stood back up, taking a small step back as Lydia turned to face them.

_You want more._

Lydia raised her eyes to the streetlamp above; the three of them followed her gaze.

“It’s not flies.” She said and then whipped around, causing the boys to jerk back. “Its electricity.” She said, sounding far too happy about it.

“Wait a sec, Barrow was an electrical engineer. He worked at a power substation.”

Jules let out an exasperated sigh, “Thank you for catching up to my train of thought.” She muttered bitterly, earning a glare from Stiles. “Which station?”

“That’s what google is for.” Lydia huffed, pulling out her phone.

* * *

 

“Okay.” Stiles said, getting out of the car. “Wait here, all right? Just wait here for the cops to come.” He sounded nervous, not nervous, terrified.

Jules stared at the station, one of the worst places to be breaking into in the middle of the night. A thousand things that could go wrong raced through her head. One of which was them dying while she and Lydia say in a car.

“Us?” Lydia asked. “Wait, why?”

Jules watched Stiles come up next to her window, “I only got one bat.” He explained.

Jules pulled herself into the driver’s seat, “You can’t go in there with nothing but a bat! That’s ridiculous!” She shouted.

Stiles gave her a look of disbelief, “Isn’t that a little hypocritical? Coming from you?”

Jules stared at him, eyes narrowed. “Yes!” She shouted, leaning across Lydia, “But here’s the thing, I DON’T CARE!”

Stiles didn’t reply, he just turned and ran after Scott. Jules collapsed back into the seat; a million different things to say or do swirled in her head. She felt full and empty all at once. Jules shifted to face Lydia, one particular question zipping through her veins and burning in her heart. She knew what it implied but she also knew she wanted this one answer more then she cared about the outcome of asking the question.

“Are you, or were you ever in love with Stiles? Or even in like?” She said, the words stumbling out of her mouth and into the air. Never to be taken back.

Slowly, Lydia turned to Jules. Her eyes were wide. “Are you in love with Stiles?” She asked, a wide grin splitting on her face.

Jules scoffed, “I asked first.” She said in a still voice.

Lydia leaned forward, “No Jules, I’m not or wasn’t. And you’re only asking because you are.” Lydia rebutted an annoyingly coy look on her face.

“Not love.” Jules fired back, her heart raced.

“How would you know?” Lydia asked her smoothly.

Jules didn’t. Jules knew that she wouldn’t know because she’d never been in love.

“Because I would know if I was in love.” Jules lied.

Lydia rolled her eyes, “You wouldn’t know if you were in love if punched you in the face.”

Jules pressed her lips together, giving Lydia her best blank stare. “I have no comment.”

Lydia smiled out the windshield, unable to contain herself. Jules felt a little compelled to smack her. Lydia turned back to her friend before Jules could come up with anything to say in her own defense, the truth was she didn’t have anything.

“He likes you back you know.” Lydia said softly.

Jules narrowed her eyes, “What? No he doesn’t. He can’t.”

Lydia scoffed, “Yes he does! We talk about it all the time!” She put a hand over her mouth, clearly not meaning to have let that one slide.

Jules gaped at her, bracing herself on the dashboard. “We? Who's we?”

Lydia sighed, “Me, Scott and Allison and sometimes Isaac.”

_Is this the betrayal? This better be the betrayal. I can handle this?_

“Lydia, what the hell? That’s the kind of thing that as my best friend you’re obligated to tell me!” Jules said shrilly.

Lydia quirked a brow, “Really?” Her face fell as sirens began to wail close by. “Jules.” She said seriously. “What do you mean he ‘can’t’ like you back?”

Jules froze, she hadn’t meant to say that out loud and she had hoped that Lydia hadn’t caught it. The sirens grew louder signaling Lydia’s window to get an answer was closing fast.

“I don’t know.” Jules spat out and turned towards the approaching police cars.

Lydia grabbed her shoulder and turned her back around, “I don’t care what happened to you. You’re not worth any less because of it.” Her voice was deadly calm. 

Jules raised her eyes to meet Lydia, she opened her mouth to say something, but what she didn’t know. But it sounded and felt like lightning struck inside the station and then the building fell silent. And every light around them. And probably every light in town went dark except for the police lights sliding up next to them and the headlights of Stiles’s jeep.

“Shit.” Jules whispered.

* * *

 

**Author Note pt. II: Everyone should listen to the song Leather Jacket by the Arkells, there’s no reason I just think it’s a lit song and also I’m really into making playlists at the moment and I’m thinking of making like ones for this story (Like Jules, Jules and Stiles, crap like that) would anyone be interested in listening to those if I did? Anyway, hope you enjoyed!** **J**


	24. Illuminated

**Chapter Twenty Four – Illuminated**

* * *

Jules had never thought she see the day where she'd be suffering through another interrogation conducted by Rafael McCall. At least this time she wasn't alone, she was wedged between Stiles and the side of the couch, trying not to wince with every breath she took.

"So, when did you get there?" McCall asked.

Jules said nothing and had not said anything the entire time. Instead she stared at the agents over polished shoes and let Stiles do all the talking.

"At the same time." He said flatly.

"At the same time as who?" McCall pressed.

The Sheriff sat behind him, looking done with the entire ordeal.

"At the same time as me." Scott said.

"By coincidence?" McCall asked his son.

"What do you mean coincidence?" Stiles interjected.

"That's what I'm asking you." He rephrased, growing irritated with the five of them. "The two of you arrived at the same time. Was that coincidence?"

"Are you asking me?" Scott asked stupidly, probably on purpose.

"I think he's asking me." Stiles said to him.

Jules was trying her best not to crack a smile at her friend's antics.

_This would not fly anywhere else._

"I think he's asking both of you." Lydia jumped in.

"Okay." McCall cut them off. "Let me answer the questions." He paused realizing his slip of the tongue; Stilinski was trying not to laugh. "Let me ask the questions." He said as he pulled out a notebook. "Just so I have this absolutely clear. Barrow was hiding in the chemistry closet at the school. Someone left him a coded message on the blackboard telling him to kill Kira. Then Barrow took Kira to a power substation and tied her up with the intent of electrocuting her, which blacked out the entire town." McCall confirmed.

"Sounds about right." Stiles said.

"How did you know he'd take her to a power station?" McCall asked.

Jules rolled her eyes.

_Dumb ass question._

"Well, cause he was an electrical engineer." Stiles said. "So... where else would he take her?"

"The olive garden?" Jules whispered, just loud enough for Stiles to have heard.

"That's one hell of a deduction there, Stiles." McCall said, decidedly not impressed.

"Yeah, what can I say? I take after my pops. He's in law enforcement." Stiles said, winking to his father who suppressed a laugh and tried to cover by coughing.

"Stiles just, uh, just answer the man." The Sheriff told his son.

"We made a good guess." Stiles said to him.

"What were the two of you doing?" McCall asked Scott and Kira.

"Eating pizza." "Eating sushi." The answered simultaneously before answering again, saying the opposite. McCall stared at them in disbelief. "Eating sushi and pizza." Scott and Kira clarified.

Jules clenched her jaw; her eyes were watering from trying her best not to laugh.

"You believe this?" McCall asked the Sheriff.

"To be honest, I haven't believed a word Stiles has said since he learned how to speak." He said flatly. "But I think, these kids found themselves in the right place at the right time and that girl sitting there is very lucky for it." He said seriously.

"Kira," McCall looked at her, "Is that how you remember it?"

Stiles, Scott and Lydia all leaned forward, looking at her. Jules let out an exasperated sigh.

_Oh, that's not at all obvious guys._

Kira nodded, "Yes." She said softly. "Could I get my phone back now?" She asked.

McCall shook his head, "Sorry, but no."

Jules followed the others out of the room when they were done, she watched a deputy lead Kira away. She heard heavy footfalls coming down the hallway and the familiar voice of her father.

"Hey, Special agent!" Noah said loudly as he came down the hallway, earning the attention of the entire room.

McCall sighed and Jules stepped away from him, closer to Stiles and Lydia. Her heart shot up into her throat at the thought of what her father might do.

"Mr. Hayes. What can I help you with?" McCall asked sourly.

Noah was obviously furious as he stepped between Rafael and Jules. "You can help me by not interrogating my daughter without a parent or lawyer present. I let that slide once, not again."

Both Stiles and Lydia looked at Jules, questions writing on their faces. Jules was tempted to smack her father upside the head.

_DO YOU NOT HAVE TACT?_

"It wasn't an interrogation." McCall assured.

Noah raised his eyebrows and took a step closer to McCall. Scott stepped to the side, away from him. Jules nodded to herself.

_Yep, this seems about right._

"The Sheriff here might not be able to do anything about you because you have your bureaucratic fist up the ass of this department." Noah said in a dangerously calm voice. "But if I see you anywhere near my daughter again, I don't care who I have to talk to, I'll call the damn president if I want, but I'll make sure your excuse for a career is over." He spat. "Jules, go wait in the car." Noah said, turning away from McCall.

Jules could feel Stiles looking at her as she followed her father towards the door.

"Mr. Hayes, your daughter has a habit of being in the wrong place in the wrong time. I'd talk to her about that." McCall said, turning back to Scott.

Jules buried her face in her hands as her father turned back around; looking like McCall had just slapped him.

"You wanna show up at my doorstep and try to tell me and my wife how to parent? That's fine." He said gruffly. "But stay the hell away from my daughter!" Noah shouted.

The room was silent, everyone unsure of what to do, all eyes on Noah and Jules. She felt mortified.

"Dad, let's just go." She hissed, grabbing his head and tugging him away. Lydia, Stiles and Scott were watching each wearing various expressions of sympathy. Jules wanted to throw up.

"Where is Charlotte? Isn't she a lawyer?" McCall said easily.

Jules's stomach dropped at the mention of her mother's name.

_What a sure fire way to get yourself punched in the face. Jesus Christ._

But instead of acting out, Noah smirked, "I don't know agent, where's your wife?" He asked lightly before turning around and walking out the door. He was followed by shocked expressions and Stiles giving Jules the thumbs up.

Jules shut her eyes and let her father lead her out the door; it had been far too long of a day.

* * *

Noah watched Jules throw down her jacket on the kitchen table, letting him know she was about to yell at him.

"Mom?!" She shouted.

Noah shook his head, "Office." He answered. "Computers when down in the outage and..." he trailed off, Jules probably didn't care.

Jules clucked her tongue and folded her arms over her chest, the spitting image of her older sister.

"What was that?" She asked him, walking over to the refrigerator and pulling out a coke, angrily popping open the bottle on the side of the counter. "Are you insane?"

Noah braced himself on a chair at the table, coming to terms with how much of an idiot he was. "I don't know." He said quietly. "But that asshole…" he trailed, not coming up with a good enough explanation to satiate his daughter.

Jules raised her eyebrows, "That asshole what? Is an asshole? It's what he does!" She shouted. "Now he's just gonna start breathing down your back." She took a swig of her drink, fighting to keep her voice steady. "What were you trying to accomplish?"

Noah looked up at his daughter, his eyes shining. "I am trying to protect you in the only way I know how."

Jules narrowed her eyes, "By pissing off federal agents? Just do normal shit like make sure I eat my vegetables and yell at me about my grades or my friends or how I dress or something!"

"You don't need normal shit." Noah said flatly. "You know how to take care of that crap. Hell, you're more capable at taking care of yourself then your mother is."

Jules put down the bottle. "I do need normal shit." She said in a dark voice. "I need to think that you and mom don't look at me like some alien creature in your house!"

Noah stared at his daughter, wondering when she'd built up the courage to say this and realizing that she probably hadn't. That it had probably slipped out because she was angry, because Charlotte wasn't here. He didn't know what he should do. Had she been Gail telling her that he loved her and giving her a hug would have sufficed. But Jules wasn't Gail and he didn't know if it was okay to tell her that he didn't know what she needed.

"Jules. That's not what you are." Noah said as calmly as he could.

Jules balled her hands into fists, "Then don't act like it!" She snapped. "Ask me how my day was when I walk in the door and take me clothes shopping and to the goddamn movies or something every once and a while!" Her voice was shrill. "Don't waltz into the sheriff station and pretend to be the helicopter parent that you aren't!"

Every word stung and viciously burrowed its way under Noah's skin and into his heart. He wasn't there for her like he should be and h was furious with himself for not knowing how to do that only thing that mattered to him.

"I know." He said, his voice cracked "And I'm sorry."

Noah stared at the kitchen table. Jules pulled out the chair next to him and sat down, her scarred hands were all of her he could see. She picked at her thumbnail.

"I know." She said quietly.

Noah hung his head, unable to think of one more word he could say. His eyes flicked to his daughter, she was as strong and as silent as always. He didn't understand how she managed, but he didn't think he ever would. Some people were just survivors.

* * *

Jules didn't understand how they could make kids come to school when the school had no power. She knew that there was no real reason not to come, but she just didn't want to be there. It had hit her that morning that it was October 31st. This meant November had arrived. This meant in less than a week she took the stand.

Jules could hardly wrap her around it; she spent the entire day lost inside of her own mind. Going through questions and answers and every single fact of her case she knew. At lunch her phone buzzed with an unknown number and she hardly cared.

_**It's almost over, still staying strong?** _

Jules deleted the message without a second thought, not summoning the energy to have the appropriate panic. She was distracted by Lydia practically skipping down the hallway towards her.

"Everyone's going to a black light party in the loft tonight." She said.

Jules raised her eyebrows, "And you want me to come?" She asked incredulously, Lydia nodded.

Jules scoffed, "Me? To a party? What? Do you think I'm fun or something?" She asked as she began to walk down the hallway.

Lydia rolled her eyes, "Just wear something neon, you'll have fun."

Jules sighed as Lydia headed off to biology, leaving Jules standing in the doorway of her law class.

"The words neon and fun don't belong in a sentence together!" She shouted down the hall, Lydia just shrugged, not turning back around.

* * *

As Jules unlocked her bike to leave, feeling jitterier than ever with the concept of a party.

_My first high school party. Is that not ridiculous? I'm a junior and I've never been to a party._

"Jules!" Stiles caught her attention; she snapped her head up to find him standing right in front of her.

"What?" She drummed her fingers on her helmet.

"We're breaking into the Sheriff station to get back Kira's phone." He said in a low voice.

Jules furrowed her brow, "You're breaking into the Sheriff station to get back Kira's phone." She clarified. "I'm going to a black-light party."

Stiles looked at her, and for a moment he looked incredibly confused. "Well, I'm going to that to but-"

"Stiles I'm not helping you break into anywhere. Let alone a building full of cops." She cut him off.

He shot her a look of disbelief. "Serious? You'd rule that out? What if I was breaking into the pentagon?"

Jules pulled on her helmet, "I'd visit you in prison." She quipped, climbing onto her bike.

Stiles gaped at her, "Seriously? You wouldn't even break me out?"

She shot him a crooked smile, her heart racing. "No." She deadpanned.

"Casino heist?" He offered.

"I loved Ocean's Eleven!" Jules explained and brought up her kickstand. "But I have to go. We can plan a robbery another time."

Stiles sighed, "Actually, I have to talk to you." He said in far too serious of a voice for Jules to blow off. She could have sworn her heart stopped.

_Did Lydia say something? Why would she do that? Is she out of her mind? What-_

"Someone has to be working with Barrow. Someone at the school." Stiles said, ending her train of thought.

Jules nodded, "Yes but we don't have any leads so why are you…" She trailed off, watching Stiles absentmindedly play with his keychain, thumbing over a particular one.

"What?" He asked, shoving the keys back into his pocket. "I know we don't have anything and-"

"And what Stiles?" Jules interrupted him. "Someone told Barrow to kill Kira. We can't figure out anything without knowing why someone would want to kill Kira." She said in a grave voice.

Stiles sighed and Jules got onto her bike, prepared to ride away. Stiles put his hand on her arm. She hated that she was so hyper-aware of it.

"Do you think this is human stuff or…" He trailed off, looking oddly vulnerable.

Jules sighed, "Honestly, I think it's a bit of both."

* * *

Jules stared at her poor culmination of neon clothes that consisted of a pair of light wash blue jeans a white t-shirt and some red sneakers. She knew it was bad, because none of it was neon, but it was the best she could do.

"Lydia's here!" Noah called from downstairs.

"Where are you guys going?" Charlotte yelled up the stairs.

"Dinner!" Jules lied easily as she raced down the stairs and past her parents. "I'm spending the night at Lydia's" She added as she went out the door, hoping they didn't notice her lack of overnight bag.

Jules bounded into Lydia's car, more excited than she was willing to admit that she was going out. There was no supernatural nonsense, nothing abnormal, just a party. One night to be normal. Her phone buzzed.

_**Didn't get arrested. Might have threatened a federal agent. Casino heist?** _

Jules let a smile wander onto her face.

"Can I guess who just texted you?" Lydia said sweetly.

Jules looked up at her, "Can you guess my response?" She replied in a biting voice.

Lydia rolled her eyes, "Whatever." She sighed. "But when you get married are you going to make him convert to Judaism?"

Jules punched Lydia's shoulder.

* * *

"It just showed up there on my key ring this morning." Stiles yelled over the din of the party. "I asked my dad if he put it there but he said he didn't know anything about it."

He, Scott and Kira waded through the crowd. Stiles could hardly believe he was actually there instead of doing literally anything else with his time.

"It's just a key right?" Scott asked, not seeing the problem. Though Stiles himself wasn't entirely sure why it irked him so much, but something about it was not only odd but inexplicably terrifying.

"Yeah but it's not mine." Stiles reiterated. "And I don't know how it got there or what it's for."

"You want to leave so we can figure it out?" Scott asked him somewhat incredulously.

Stiles didn't know. He searched the party, looking for one very specific reason to stay. That reason found him. Jules bumped into his shoulder wearing neon lipstick that definitely wasn't hers. Bright pink handprints covered her arms, there was a green line painted where the scars on her chest and collar bone would be. She looked bright, and not just because of the neon. Stiles knew he was staring at her, mostly because Scott hit his arm and then left with Kira.

"How'd the law breaking go?" She asked him, moving awkwardly to the beat of the song.

"Good." Stiles said, noticing that her hair was down. It was never down.

"Cool." She said, still smiling.

Stiles noted that this might have been the longest period of time of her consecutive smile.

"Do you want to dance?" Stiles spat out, "You know, considering you're already kind of dancing and I'm right here." He rambled on, Jules kept smiling and Stiles kind of forgot what he was saying. She nodded and grabbed his hand; Stiles laced his fingers with hers as she led him through the crowd.

Stiles would have sworn this party was the place on earth he would found Jules Hayes with a smile on her face. But it had been a while since she'd surprised him.

"Not gonna lie." Jules said as she jerked her arms in an attempt to do a wave, "I don't know what I'm doing."

Stiles laughed, hoping that at least his dance moves were better than hers. For a moment they were silent but her smile faded and she looked away from him, Stiles furrowed his brow. He leaned down to talk to her.

"Hey, are you-"

Jules turned back to face him, nearly smacking his head with hers. Stiles remembered the last time their faces had been this close. She had just kissed him and he felt like his heart had stopped and started again and for a second he hadn't been thinking about the thousand different things that were going wrong. For a second he was just a boy who had been kissed by a girl that he-

"Are we good?" She blurted out, ending his reminiscing. "I mean, I was an asshole to you and I didn't mean it if-"

"Yes." Stiles cut her off before she continued, his eyes locked onto hers.

_Didn't I start it? Wasn't I the one who was terrible to you?_

Her eyes shined. "What?" She asked.

"We're good." Stiles assured, realizing what they must look like to the people around them. His hands were on her shoulders and their faces were so close they might as well have been touching. "We're great actually, I'm pretty sure that no two people have ever been as fantastic as we are." He half joked, wanting to pull her close but knowing that if he did, she could pull away.

She quirked a brow, "Really? Sounds like a bit of hyperbole to me."

Stiles grabbed her hand and spun her around. "Nope." He said, popping the 'p'.

Jules let out a laugh and Stiles didn't let go of her hand and she spun him around the way he had done to her.

"Hey!" he shouted. "Do you want something to drink?"

Jules shook her head, "I don't drink!" She yelled back, dancing in a way Stiles could only describe as flailing.

"Not even water?" He asked sardonically.

Jules gave a blank stare. "Yes Stiles. I sometimes, on occasion, drink water to sustain this flesh prison that I inhabit."

Stiles rolled his eyes, "I'll be right back."

* * *

Jules sat on the staircase, her heart pounded with the music and the feeling of Stiles being so close. She smiled to herself, she was in a room full of people and she felt unwatched. She felt safe and sure of herself.

_Is this that recovery shit everyone has been talking about? Is that happening?_

She watched Stiles weave his way through the crowd, nearly getting elbowed in the face.

He handed her a bottle of water.

Stiles sat down on the step above her and pulled out his keys, looking for his bottle opener. She watched him, one key caught her eye.

"Stiles your key is glowing." She pointed out.

Stiles held it out, confusion and worry was written on his face. "It's not my key; I don't know where it came from." He said, clearly bothered by it.

Jules stared at it, "Its phosphors. That's what's on it." She grabbed it from it. "That's the stuff that makes everything in this room glow."

Stiles turned to Jules, his face not even an inch from hers.

_Do it. Do it. Just do it. Just kiss the idiot. You want to. Just do it._

Jules didn't do it, even though he was staring at her mouth and the moment was perfect and she knew she would regret that she didn't.

_Why is there phosphors on the key that he has but isn't his?_

"Sti-" Jules started but he caught her off by kissing her.

His mouth was soft on hers and his hand was soft on her arm and Jules could tell he was treading so carefully and she was so happy that he was. But Jules didn't need that, not when in that moment with her heart racing and music loud in her ears and she felt normal. There was no past or future, no reason why he shouldn't be, there was just Stiles kissing her. Jules twined her arms around his neck and pulled him closer and he kissed her harder. One of his hands was playing with her hair and the other one was on her waist pulling her into him. Jules knew she had been wrong before about the locker room. That wasn't her first real kiss. This was. The beat of her heart was echoed in a song and she could feel his pounding at the same pace.

Stiles pulled away, his mouth was blue with her lipstick. "You kissed me back." He said dumbly.

Jules nodded. "Yes." She said. "I did." She stammered.

Stiles leaned in again but she stopped him. "The key. It's bothering you." She reminded him.

Stiles shrugged and kept leaning in. Jules rolled her eyes. "It would only be glowing if you'd been handling chemicals, which I don't think you have so…" Jules trailed off at the frozen look on his face, not frozen, fear. "Stiles?"

He jumped to his feet. "I've gotta go." He said. "I've just realized something and I've got to go."

Jules frowned, "What?"

"I want to stay." He assured. "Oh my god, I want to stay, but I have to go." He started backing away, countless emotions and thoughts clearly swirling in his head. He looked chaotic.

Fear settled into Jules's chest as she stood up. "Stiles you're freaking me out." She said flatly.

He darted forward and kissed her cheek, "I'll see you tomorrow. Okay?" His voice was soft.

Jules nodded, wanting to go with him but getting the feeling that there was no way he was going to let her. "Okay, Stiles just…" She trailed off, searching her mind for what she wanted to say. But his back was already to her, weaving through the crowd.

All of a sudden the party seemed too loud, too cramped and too lonely. She couldn't spot any of her friends. Her heart pounded in the way that she hated and Jules badly needed air. She scrambled for the doors out of the loft, shoving through the crowd. Jules had known that often crowds were like quicksand, the harder she fought, the worse it would get.

Once on the other side of a drunken mosh pit Jules threw herself at the door, wrenching it open with a lot more strength then she thought she possessed. Jules pounded down the hallway, collapsing against a wall in the stairwell. Her mind raced, what seemed like thousands of problems presented themselves with no solutions. Jules sunk to the floor and brought her knees into her chest, her eyes were wide on the pitch black corridor in front of her.

She was alone and strangely enough, she didn't feel like it. The feeling was back. There was someone in her peripheral that she couldn't see, that didn't exist.

Jules fisted her hands in her hair, she was barely breathing.

_What is going on with me?_

She was the kind of not okay that was different than usual and that scared the hell out of her. Jules grit her teeth and just as she was about to scream in frustration, the darkness moved.

Jules froze in horror as three figures stepped out of the shadows, horrifyingly masked and made of darkness with glowing eyes.

Jules had thought before that she'd known fear, but she'd been wrong. A force she couldn't see dragged Jules to her feet and she felt a terror so pure and so cold Jules was certain it would kill her before these creatures did. One put its hand to the side of her head and pressed.

The world flashed brilliant, vibrant green and then black.

* * *

Derek pounded up the stairs to his loft, furious and terrified, but more furious that there was a party happening in his house. Derek froze as he reached the final landing before the loft, huddled on the floor was Jules. Her heart was pounding like a jackhammer. Worry stabbed its way into his heart and quickly Derek picked her up. She was limp and shivering, a black symbol decorated the space behind her ear. Whatever had attacked him must have gotten to her to. Derek held her close and climbed the rest of the stairs. He couldn't help but wonder why she was alone, unless, he thought.

_They got everyone else to._

* * *

Jules didn't remember being moved from the stairwell to the loft. All she knew was that she was staring at a ruined bar and the same cloaked figures that had done, what? She didn't know. Her eyelids flickered as she fought to stay conscious while a blur of movement unfolded in front of her. There was growling, that much she did know.

She also knew she was freezing, and that she couldn't feel her fingers or toes.

She was vaguely aware of Allison at her side, saying her name.

Jules tried to focus on the creatures as they cornered one of the twins. She was waiting for some kind of extravagant action. But inside it touched the side of his head and the twin, she thought Aiden, collapsed shivering to the floor.

Jules then became numbly aware that Allison was fine and that they, whatever they were weren't showing any interest in her. They had turned to Scott.

_Or Kira._

But Jules didn't find out because sunlight began to flood the loft and the creatures faded away into shadow. Jules's heart pounded.

"What the hell were those things?" Scott asked a question, that no one had an answer.

Jules stomach clenched with fear as she stared at Allison. "Why are you fine?" She asked feebly, but loud enough to be heard.

"What?" Allison asked. "What do you mean?"

Jules sat up, her side ached. "I'm human. You're human." She pointed out. "But they only checked me."

Jules knew that her fear was plain in her voice but she didn't care.

No one did anything expect look at her oddly.

Panic rose up in Jules's chest, "Why am I the only human they checked?" She asked, meekly.

And still no one said anything. Jules look a painful breath, determined to sound a lot stronger then she felt.

"Why the hell am I the only human they checked?"

* * *

**Author Note: I feel like this entire show can be summed up by that mincing mocking bird page that's like "This would have passed a very pleasant evening had shit not gotten real."**


	25. Silver Finger

**Chapter Twenty Five – Silver Finger**

* * *

 

Jules stared at the miniature calendar that her mother kept on the refrigerator. She listened to Charlotte discuss the plans of the next week though a haze of exhaustion. Not that Jules needed to listen, she knew what was happening. She couldn't stop thinking about it as she gazed at the days date.

**_November 1st_ **

Her stomach churned as she read through the week.

**_November 3rd – Leave for LaGuardia from LAX,_ **

**_November 6th – Trial begins_ **

**_November 7th – Jules Testifies._ **

Noah set a BLT in front of his daughter, but Jules couldn’t fathom eating after the night she had just had. She couldn’t shut her eyes without seeing those creatures emerge from the dark. And she couldn’t stop thinking about Stiles' hand in her hair or the stab in her heart when he had left.

Jules checked her phone under the table while her mother read from day planner. She explained when exactly they were eating dinner and what Jules would like from the menu. She had no new messages and nothing to stare at except her own forlorn reflection.

Jules had heard that things always felt different the next morning. She hadn’t really understood what that meant until Stiles wasn’t giving her an explanation or even a hello. Jules could hardly wrap her head around how selfish she was being. Stiles was clearly having some kind of problem and the biggest thing on her mind was whether or not he cared that he’d just left her at a party alone.

Jules wondered if caring was meant to make her selfish, or if she just wasn’t used to caring about how she was treated.

She leaned her elbows on the table and rubbed her eyes.

“Jules?” Her mother asked, finally earning her attention. “Are you alright?”

Jules levelled her gaze with her mother’s; it was hard and cold in the warm morning light. “Yes I’m stellar.” She deadpanned and took a vicious bite out of her sandwich out of spite.

Charlotte sighed and shut her planner, “It’s a lot for one morning.” She said softly. “I’ll drive you to school.”

Jules didn’t have the energy to argue, that morning she didn’t have it in her to feel much at all.

* * *

 

Charlotte drummed her fingers on the steering wheel, sick with herself and sick with the silence in the car. She felt ill with apologies that she needed to make and words that swelled and burned inside her chest but she didn’t know how to use. Charlotte was articulate with facts and clumsy with emotion. She knew that, and often it bite her in the ass.

“Jules.” She said in a voice much harder than she’d intended. “You know I love you, don’t you?”

All her daughter did was stare straight ahead and shrug, “It wouldn’t kill you to act like it.” She said coldly.

Charlotte felt like shed been punched in the stomach, but she deserved that. “I know how I can be.” She said, fighting to keep her voice clear. “And I know what you must think I think of you, but-” Her voice cracked so she pulled over, feeling her hands begin to shake.

Jules was staring at her, eyes wide. Charlotte knew that until that moment Jules had never seen her cry. She made a point to look at her daughter, to meet her in the eye.

“A lot went wrong in your investigation and I had a lot of time to be angry at the wrong people.” Charlotte chocked out, “And sometimes that meant you.” She said. Her voice was just audible with the admission. “And for that I’m sorry.”

Charlotte could have sworn Jules didn’t react, could she really be that impenetrable?

“Okay.” Jules huffed, she looked like she might say something else but she turned back to face the road.

Charlotte nodded and wiped her eyes; she took a calming breath and began driving again. There was still a weight on her chest and she knew what it was, but it was a secret for another day.

Charlotte’s eyes flicked to her daughter, Jules was silent and unwavering. Charlotte doubted there was anything she could hide from her, but damn it if she wouldn’t try.

* * *

 

Scott watched Jules stare blankly at the inside of her locker; she looked exhausted, almost as bad as Stiles. With some reluctance he walked up to her, worry building in his chest, his concern for everyone felt like fluid in his lungs. Sometimes it made it hard to breath.

“Jules?” he said, getting her attention. “Can we talk?”

Her eyes flicked to Ethan and Aiden where they stood, flanking Scott. “With or without them?”

“Without them.” Scott assured.

Jules sighed and meandered into a nearby classroom, Scott followed her, his heart pounding.

“This is about the demon things right?” She asked, sitting on a desk, seeming disinterested.

Scott nodded, realizing he didn’t want to bother her with any of it. What good would it do? But he went forward because she would want to know.

“Chris has seen them before. He told us that they can look into you. They’ll check anyone with a connection to the supernatural.” He said, holding a steady gaze on Jules.

She sighed, “So that’s banshees, werewolves and me.” She said flatly. “For some reason?” Jules furrowed her brow, as confused as the rest of them.

Scott nodded, unsure of what to say next. Jules heartbeat picked up and Scott knew he needed to think of something.

“I’m not hiding anything.” Jules said, the words stumbling from her mouth. “If that’s what you want to ask I don’t know why-”

“No.” Scott said quickly. “I didn’t think you were its just…” He trailed off thinking of Stiles and how he thinks he was helping Barrow and how Jules was the one who held him down. She was the one with a supernatural connection to Stiles.

“It’s just what?” Jules pressed, brow quirked, looking expectant.

Scott looked at her, studying her expression. She looked guileless, she never looked like that. Juliet Hayes didn’t look approachable or open with him; she was hardly either of those things. Not naturally.

“Nothing.” Scott said uneasily. “I’m worried about Stiles.”

Jules furrowed her brow, “Yeah. Me too.” She said in a low voice, “I don’t know what it is but…” She stopped and shrugged herself again.

Scott couldn’t tell her what Stiles had told him but he had a feeling that Jules knew more than she was letting on, or at least felt more. Scott didn’t believe for a second that Jules didn’t have a theory; he just wasn’t sure he wanted it.

The bell rang, reminding them both that they had lives to get to. Without another word Jules slipped passed Scott and into the bustling hallway, Scott sighed. He hated the feeling that everything was spiraling out of the little control he had. 

* * *

 

Stiles fumbled with the key to his car, his hands shaking. He couldn’t remember the last time his hands weren’t shaking.

“Stiles?” A clear and familiar voice cut across the parking lot, “What are you doing?”

He looked up to see Jules walking towards him, not looking nearly as tired as she should have. Guilt pricked in his chest as he saw her and he wanted so badly so explain the night before, but he couldn't do it. He wanted to at least pretend that they were fine, out of everything going wrong, they were fine even if they weren't.

“Uh, nothing.” He said unconvincingly. “Why aren’t you in class?”

Jules leaned against the jeep; there was some paint in her hair from the night before. Stiles could still feel the strands of it between his fingers, the slam of her heart against his.

“Why aren’t you in class?” She rebutted.

“I asked first.” Stiles said. His voice was weak.

Jules studied him, and Stiles felt small under her gaze. There wasn’t a lot he could hide from her when he felt as awful as he did. His guard was down and he knew that she could tell. He knew he should tell her.

“I’m skipping. I have somewhere better to be.” She said softly.

Stiles looked at his keys, fidgeting with them instead of meeting her eyes. “Do you remember the key from last night? The one that glowed?” He glanced at her worried expression.

Jules nodded, “Why?”

Stiles brought his head up to meet her eyes, “It was for the chemistry closet, the one Barrow hid in.” He told her, searching her face for a reaction, but she was stoic, looking at him to go on. “And I can’t prove it because it’s gone.” He said, fighting to keep his voice steady.

“Okay.” Jules said in a still voice. “And I’m assuming you don’t remember getting rid of it.”

Stiles nodded, his heart hammered. “And the atomic numbers? I wrote them. I don’t remember writing them but I know I did, it was my writing but when I went to show Sc-”

“Stiles.” She cut him off in a hard voice. “Are you trying to tell me you think you tried to kill Kira?”

Stiles clenched his hand around the key, “Are you trying to tell me you haven’t felt anything wrong?” He asked cautiously, terrified of her answer.

_Tell me you’re not sure you’re sane either._

Jules unfolded his hand from around his keys, her touch was alive. “Stiles.” She said steadily. “You’re sleep deprived. That’s gonna cause all kinds of issues, one of them being delusions.”

Stiles glowered at her, “I’m not delusional.” He protested.

She raised her eyebrows, “So you’re a murderer then?” She asked him in disbelief.

“I don’t know.” Stiles said honestly. “But it doesn’t make sense that-”

“No it doesn’t make sense.” Jules cut him off in a soft voice and took his keys from his hand. “But you need sleep and you know that. Were you going home?”

Stiles stared at her, “I don’t let people drive my car.” He said flatly.

Jules opened the driver’s seat door, “I don’t let people drive when they might fall asleep at the wheel.”

With a great reluctance Stiles walked around to the passenger side. He wondered whether or not she had a driver’s license but he didn't want to ask. She had driven out to him on the night of the eclipse, so she wasn’t incompetent. He climbed into a seat in his car that was unfamiliar to him and watched her clip on her seatbelt like she belonged there. Maybe she did. 

“Home?” She asked again, adjusting the seat and the mirrors.

Stiles didn’t have the energy to be annoyed he’d have to change everything back.

“No.” He said. “The hospital.” He didn’t meet her eyes when she looked at him.

“Okay.” She said as she started the car.

Stiles watched as they pulled away from the school, “Where do you have to be that’s better?” He asked remembering that she was on her way out when she’d found him.

Jules’s hands clenched around the steering wheel, it was subtle. Stiles knew that if he hadn’t been paying what might have been a creepy amount of attention to her he wouldn’t have noticed.

“Not better.” She said, “Just more important.”

Stiles nodded, noticing that her bike helmet was sitting with her backpack behind them. “So you’re biking there?”

“Shit.” She muttered, but it didn't sound like she cared all that much.

Stiles watched as Jules rested one arm in the open window and sat comfortably behind the wheel of his car.

“Borrow the jeep.” He said quietly, wary of her answer though he wasn’t sure if it would bother him more if she said yes or no.

Jules’s eyes flicked to him, bright and dark at the same time. “Are you kidding? You love this car more than yourself.”

Stiles let a smile ghost his face.

_I don’t know how much that says._

“Just be careful.” He warned.

“Well my plans could involve a car chase, what’s the horsepower on this thing?” She said in a voice so deadpan Stiles couldn’t decipher if she was joking.

“No.” He said. “None of that.” Stiles shot down.

Jules just shot him a half smile response and they lapsed into silence, headed closer and closer to the hospital. Stiles didn’t understand why she hadn’t asked him why. He was sure that there were few things Jules encountered that she didn’t question.

Stiles studied her expression, or her lack thereof. Sometimes he just wanted to ask, to let questions poor out of him. How did she survive? What did she think of him? What did she feel? How did she look at him and decide that she wanted him? At what point did she choose him? Because Stiles was certain there was no other way. Jules didn’t fall or stumble into things, not the way that he had fallen into her.

He looked away from her, finding it strange that she hadn’t always been there beside him, matching him move for move. Jules had existed for Stiles for a lot less time than it seemed, then he felt. Stiles shut his eyes, trying to handle how tried he was. But even with Jules beside him, looking out for him, he knew sleep wouldn’t come. Something was wrong with him, and for a moment when he was looking at her, Stiles had forgotten. Why couldn’t it be that way all the time?

* * *

 

Anxiety built in Jules’s stomach as she sat behind the wheel of Stiles’s car. She hadn’t wanted to leave him at the hospital; she hadn’t wanted to be responsible for his jeep. But she did and she was. Now Jules was sat in the parking lot of Eichen Sanitarium trying to muster up enough courage to even walk to the front gate.

_You’re not a patient and you’re not in danger of becoming one. You can just go in. You can just go visit someone. You’re allowed._

Jules didn’t move. She knew she had to, but she didn’t. In fact she was very compelled just to drive, fast and aimlessly in the direction away from Beacon Hills. But she knew she couldn’t. She was needed there, her parents might both drop dead if Jules disappeared again and she wasn’t in a car she could steal with a clean conscious.

If Jules were being honest she would admit to feeling like she was in limbo. She was stuck in a place of in between, one thing to another. She remembered Kira’s hast explanation of Bardo. And she wondered if it was possible that they were all feeling something like it somehow. Jules was restless and out of touch, waiting for something, but she didn’t know what.

This solidified her resolve, she needed to do something and she needed to do it now.

Jules got out of the jeep, sure to lock it behind her.

The Sanitarium seemed far more daunting from the outside. It appeared to rise up above her as she approached the gate and shakily pressed the buzzer.

“I’m Juliet Hayes; I’m here to visit someone. I made a call.” She said in as unassuming of a voice as she could muster.

The gate opened without a word from reception.

_You can still walk away. Just turn around._

Jules took a breath and stepped inside, the gate shutting behind her. Her stomach flipped.

_Okay, this is a done deal then._

* * *

 

Malia Tate stared blankly at the girl in front of her.

“You wanted to talk to me?” She asked; still not understanding why she was here. “About what?”

Jules, a friend of Scott’s, buried her face in her hands. “Malia, for the third time, you.” She said, exasperated. “Just… how are you doing?”

Malia frowned, brow furrowed and unable to detect what Jules wanted. Was she genuinely asking how she was doing?

“I wish I was still a coyote.” Malia said flatly, her arms folded over her chest.

Jules nodded, “That’s fair.” She said.

Malia’s heart lurched and she cocked her head, “What?”

Malia hadn’t thought she would accept that. Who would accept that? Wasn’t she supposed to be grateful? Malia knew she was supposed to be happy to be in her human skin, but she wasn’t. It was foreign and vulnerable and she felt things that she had never before, that she had never wanted to. Coyotes don’t feel guilt for killing half their family. Humans do.

“I get it.” Jules said steadily, not taking her eyes off of Malia’s.

Malia looked away, coyotes didn’t make eye contact, not unless they were about to try and kill you. Malia wasn’t entirely convinced humans weren’t the same way.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Malia asked, staring at a scar running along Jules’s collar bone.

“Change is hard.” Jules said in a low voice. “No matter what you’re leaving behind you’re leaving something behind. Even if it was bad.”

Malia was about to tell her that being a coyote wasn’t bad, but she got the sense that Jules wasn’t talking about her.

“What do you miss?” Malia asked boldly, ignoring how anxious Jules was, how angry. She was putting on an excellent show of being neither.

“I don’t miss anything.” She said harshly. “It’s just hard to realize that you have a future.” Her voice dropped.

Malia narrowed her eyes, “Is that why you’re here? To talk about what happens to me when I get out?” She growled.

“No.” Jules leaned forward, “I wanted to talk to you.”

Malia glowered at her, her heart pounding with aggression. She didn’t understand why, they had never met before. What could they have in common? What did she want?

“Why?”

Jules let out a deflated sounding sigh, “Because I have a loose understanding of what you’ve gone through.”

Malia raised her eyebrows, “Really?” She asked incredulously. If Malia were being honest with herself she would have admitted she wanted to see if all that rage could come to the surface. That was something Malia understood, that she could challenge, anger. Whatever Jules was doing, whatever genuine reason she had, Malia didn’t understand.

“Yes.” Jules pressed. “I know what it’s like to be in this place.” She gestured around the stark visitation room. “And I know what it’s like to wake up and suddenly realize that you have a life.”

Jules’s voice was guileless. Enough that Malia wanted to believe her.  But she didn’t know what to say to that.

Jules sighed and leaned back into the chair, finally bringing her eyes away from Malia. Malia knew that Jules was right. It wasn’t easy to be told that she was being prepped for high school and that her father loved her and to look in the mirror and see a person. That was terrifying.

Malia studied Jules while she focused on her hands. She looked exhausted. It was the kind of tired that Malia had noticed on patients who had been here far too long and on the nurses who struggled to bring themselves to care.

“So you just came here to talk to me.” Malia said cautiously.

Jules rubbed her eyes, “Yeah. There aren’t a lot of people who understand what it feels like. To be gone and back and then all of a sudden you have this future that you didn’t expect.” Her voice was quiet, verging on breaking.

“Nobody asks you if you want it.” Malia said sourly.

Jules brought her gaze back to her and this time Malia didn’t feel compelled to look away, “No they don’t.”

Malia watched Jules brush her hair of her face and adjust the sleeve on her jacket. She looked like a person; she seemed more real than any of the people Malia had met in Eichen house.

“How do you do it? Out there?” Malia asked so quietly she wasn’t even sure that Jules could hear her.

Jules huffed, “I don’t know.” She said honestly. “Well, sometimes I know. Sometimes it’s just about letting life happen to you and dealing with it.” Her voice was rough was an emotion hat Malia wasn’t familiar enough with to identify.

“And other times?” She pressed.

Jules looked down at the floor, “Other times I don’t want life to happen to me, other times I want to actually live it.”

Malia furrowed her brow, “And how do you do that?”

Malia’s heart was pounding with the first real human conversation she’d ever had.

Jules shrugged, “I have no idea.”

Malia nodded and continued to watch the girl across from her. She couldn’t blame her; the real world seemed terrifying and Malia wasn’t sure if she wanted any part of it. And frankly, it didn’t seem like Jules was either.


	26. Riddled

**Oh my god this took forever and I’m annoyed with myself. Basically my sister just had a baby (yay!) but somehow a tiny child that isn’t even mine manages to throw all of life off kilter. Anyway, it’s important to note that when I first started posting this story I had written like 18 chapters of it and now I’m barely a chapter ahead of what I’m posting which is why it’s more like nine days between updates instead of like four. So anyways there’s bit of an explanation for the erraticism and my goal is to be so much more consistent from here to the end.**

**Chapter Twenty Six – Riddled**

* * *

 

Jules stared at the splintered log in front of her, an axe in her hands. She was trying to fight off the cold that was creeping through her bones, forcing her body to shake and her teeth to chatter. The woods were illuminated by the moon and nothing else. She felt like she could have been part of them, just another shadow in the darkness. Her hands tightened around the handle as the memory of the Oni invaded her mind. She brought the weapon down again, further completing the job her father was meant to do. Jules brought it down again and again, trying to force from her mind everything that didn’t belong.

She was silent; she didn’t feel the need to make any sound if she was on the verge of a breakdown. Jules felt suffocated by the night, by her past, he present, her future. It seemed like her entire life as just swirling around her, unfolding as it wished with no regard for what she could bear.

In a savage motion Jules turned and drove the axe into a nearby tree, letting out a grin at the satisfying thud.

Nearly half an hour earlier she had awoken from a nightmare to find that time did what it always did, progressed. It was no longer November 2nd, it was November 3rd.

_Today I’m going back to New York._

She wrenched the axe from the tree.

_I’m going back to New York._

Jules would have sworn her blood was boiling. Not because she was afraid, not because she was angry, but because for the first time in a long time she felt right with a moment. Jules was alive. She was standing under a clear sky with a clear head and she was going back to New York City. Jules had been walking a line for years and it began and ended in New York. At its end there was a life, a future spanning out in infinite directions. Her future was a waiting tangible thing.

She stared out into the blackness of the woods, Jules felt like it was waiting just beyond the dark. Her breath was heavy with elation and a smile broke out onto her face, true and uninhibited.

Jules was going back to New York and she was ending the life that she had and she was starting a new one.

For a second Jules stood perfectly still, relishing her moment of happiness. She could see her breath and the air stung her lungs with the promise of winter. And she was still smiling.

Her phone cut through the silence of the night, pulling Jules away from her smile. She pulled it from her pocket and her heart lurched at the caller, Stiles.

She let out a sigh, “Stiles what-”

“Jules?” His voice came out as a whisper, shaking and afraid. “Is that you?”

She would have bet money that her heart stopped. “Stiles are you okay?”

Jules was then struck by how alone she was in dark. And careful not to turn her back to the woods she began making her way down the trail back to her yard.

Stiles didn’t respond to her question, all Jules could hear was the hitch in his heavy breath.

“Stiles.” She said, forcefully this time. “Are you okay?”

Jules struggled to push her own panic out of her voice. She clenched her hand around the axe and stopped on the edge of her yard.

“I don’t know.” He choked out. “I don’t know where I am. I don’t know. And I…” Stiles trailed off and Jules heart as beating like a jack hammer.

“Can you see anything around you?” She pressed. “Can you tell me if-”

“Jules.” He cut her off, quieter than before. “I don’t think I’m alone.”

Her eyes burned and it was like a siren went off in her head, crowding her thoughts with noise. Jules was suddenly overcome with the darkness of the night and the feeling that she wasn’t alone. But she was and she knew she was. She had to be.

“Stiles what do you mean?” Her voice fell out strangled and shrill. “Stiles?”

But he was gone, a dial tone in his place.

* * *

 

Jules didn’t remember exactly how she got into Stiles’ house. All she knew was that her lungs burned and she was still holding the axe. Her legs screamed with pain and even the run hadn’t warned her up. Jules couldn’t take her eyes away from his bedroom, or more specifically, the string that decorated it. She slid down the wall, her eyes on the scissors he had shoved into his mattress.

As her adrenaline waned her heartbeat didn’t, the rush of the run being replaced with panic. Her breathe felt tight in her chest and Jules wanted nothing more than to cry. But she didn’t, she couldn’t.

Jules jerked to her feet and let the axe clatter from her hands onto the floor. She stepped forward, further into the center of the room. She felt surrounded by the string, like it was reaching out for her, entangling her. Each of them left the scissors for an image. They left him for something he was connected to.

Jules furrowed her brow and pushed away her panic. Pain pricked up and down her legs and cold wouldn’t leave her veins but she let those things fall to the back of her mind.

_Stiles did this, so somewhere, somehow I can understand it._

But Jules was uneasy. This, the string, the scissors, the images was incoherent. It couldn’t have been meant for her to understand. And she had a swelling and horrifying doubt that it wasn’t Stiles who had done this. This wasn’t thought. It was a struggle.

Jules’ heart sank.

_A struggle with what?_

* * *

 

Lydia stared at Jules, watching as she didn’t react. Not to her and Aiden come in, not to Scott and Isaac and their ridiculous idea that they wouldn’t tell the Sheriff his son was missing. Jules was just staring at every individual picture, shivering and saying nothing. Every so often she would shift her weight with a wince and Lydia knew better then to ask why. And she needed to focus on Stiles, they all did.

Maybe there was no part of Jules that was listening. She wasn’t even paying attention with Lydia made it clear that Stiles could die. But then again, nobody had wanted to hear that.

Lydia stopped Aiden as he moved to leave behind Scott and Isaac.

“Well catch up.” She said. “There is something here.”

Lydia wanted to believe that, she had to. Otherwise why had she been led here? She had to believe that she could save someone before it was too late, especially if it was Stiles.

“Yeah.” Isaac said. “Evidence of total insanity.”

Lydia’s eyes flicked to Jules, waiting for her to leap to Stiles defense even if there was nothing to say. But Jules was silent, stuck or lost in her own head.

Scott looked around the room; Lydia could tell how much this was hurting him. Stiles was everything to him, and this, this had to be killing him.

“We can figure out what’s wrong with him after we find a way to keep him from freezing to death.” Scott said with a determination that Lydia wanted to believe in. She caught Scott’s eyes flick to a still shivering Jules, despite her being inside longer than any of them.

Lydia nodded, wanting to get on with the search, wanting to find him. “Go. We’ll be right behind you.”

She and Aiden turned back to the room and back to Jules and the faraway look on her face. Lydia walked up to her friend, nudging her side. Jules glanced at her but did nothing else.

“We’re gonna find him.” Lydia said as convincingly as she could.

But Jules said nothing and continued to study the room. Lydia’s eyes flicked to the now empty doorway and the axe that sat beside it.

“Is that yours?” She asked.

A smile ghosted across Jules’ face. “I have no explanation.” She said flatly.

Lydia could here Aiden moving around behind them, Lydia leaned in closer to her friend.

“Are you ready?” She whispered.

Jules clenched her jaw and her cold blue eyes flicked to Lydia for the first time that night and she nodded. Lydia gave her a small smile and refocused on the room. She had nothing left to say, and that could she say? Jules was going back to New York, the last place on earth Lydia ever wanted her to leave to again. The thought of her getting on a plane across the country made her so sick she couldn’t think about it. She didn’t want to lose her again. And she had to remind herself over and over that she wouldn’t. Jules was going to be safe. Jules was going to be fine. Jules was going to come back and they would figure everything else out. They would figure out Stiles and things would slow down again, maybe this time for good.

Lydia didn’t believe that, even though she really, really wanted to.

* * *

 

Jules didn’t understand. If Stiles was trying to leave a message for them, or tell them anything it wasn’t clear in any way, shape, or form. She wanted to scream, but unlike Lydia her screaming wouldn’t help them. It would just be pathetic. 

Jules sat down on the edge of Stiles's bed, rubbing her hands up and down her shins and calves. She was cold and in pain and tired and worst off all, terrified.

Aiden picked up something off of his desk.

“Didn’t you draw this?” He asked.

Jules looked up as Lydia turned around. Her heart just about stopped in her chest at the sight of the framed sketch of a tree. Jules couldn’t bring herself to look at Lydia to see her reaction, she didn’t want to know.

“Put that back.” Lydia told him.

Jules stared at the floor.

“It’s yours right?” Aiden pressed, a smile plastered onto his face. Oblivious.

Jules felt an unfamiliar pang in her chest grow and add to the reasons she wanted to put her fist through something.

“It’s one of them. I guess.” Lydia said softly and Jules could feel her friend looking at her. But Jules just kept staring down.

“He likes you a lot, doesn’t he?” Aiden asked, and he sounded if possible, a little wounded.

Jules didn’t want to think about it, she wanted the topic to go away. She wanted to not have to think about her feelings when she should just be using her head. But she couldn’t stop and it made her furious.

_He’s always been in love with Lydia and you know that. What did you think that would change? That those feelings would go away?_

Lydia walked up to Aiden. “Maybe he likes the drawing a lot.”

Jules knew she said it for both her and Aiden’s benefit but it wasn’t helping.

“For Lydia.” Aiden whispered and Jules glanced up to see the card on the back.

She was ashamed to admit that hurt. That physically hurt. She remembered always being with Lydia, standing at her side. But she also remembered what people thought, what people saw. They hadn't been equals and nobody had ever thought of them that way. Jules was a shadow. She was second and she knew it. But until that moment it had never hurt. Until that moment Jules had never considered that maybe it was true.

Lydia’s phone beeped and Jules welcomed the distraction.

“Nothing at hospital Derek headed to high school.” Lydia read out. “Isaac’s going to find Allison. I’m with Stiles’ dad.”

Jules buried her head in her hands and let out a groan.

“And we’re standing in a bedroom staring at walls.” Aiden pointed out lightly.

“Great observation skills.” Jules said, her voice muffled by her hands. She looked up at him. “No wonder you’re so much goddamn help.” She said venomously.

Part of her, a large part of her, wanted to get a rise out of him. She wanted a reason to get angry. She needed some kind of release.

Lydia didn’t look impressed with either of them and to Jules’ dismay Aiden didn’t respond. He could probably tell what she was trying to do. Lydia glanced at Jules wearing a look that clearly stated, “I don’t know what to say to you.”

Jules did the only thing she could think of doing at the moment and shoot her a vicious glare. Aiden caught her eye as he plucked a string and Jules opened her mouth to tell him there was nothing more annoying than doing that. But Lydia whipping around to face him seemed slightly more important.

“What did you just do?” She asked. Aiden looked at her. He was the picture of guilt. “Did you just touch one of the strings?”

“Maybe.” “Yes.” Aiden and Jules said simultaneously.

Lydia looked to the thread closet to her with a look of realization that made Jules stand up. Pain shot into her knees.

_WHAT THE FUCK._

She forced the pain away and focused on Lydia. She ignored her stupid, undeserving, and un-feminist bitterness towards her friend.

Slowly and cautiously Lydia reached out for the string and plucked it, she looked horrified.

“What did that sound like to you?” She asked.

Jules and Aiden exchanged looks of worry and confusion.

“Like a shitty guitar.” Jules answered. “What did you hear?”

“You didn’t hear people whispering?” Lydia asked, somewhat in disbelief.

Jules walked to Lydia’s side, studying her. Her heart raced with an ill excitement. This meant that there was something there for them to find.

“I definitely did not hear people whispering.” Aiden told her.

She plucked another string. “You didn’t hear that?” She asked in disbelief.

Jules leaned down to look her in the eye. “We can’t do what you can.”

“I’m not sure anybody hears what you hear.” Aiden said.

Jules nodded in agreement.

“They’re whispering.” Lydia said to them. “Something about a house.”

She whipped around to look at a picture on Stiles’s wall that had confused Jules the most.

“What house?” Aiden asked,

“Eichen house.” Jules said solemnly, uneasiness creeping into her veins and into her voice.

Lydia turned to Jules with wide eyes as Jules plucked the string that led to the photo of the sanitarium.

The three of them walked up to the photo.

“What’s Eichen House?” Aiden asked.

"A mental health center.” Lydia answered, probably so that Jules didn’t have to.

“It’s the worst place ever.” Jules said definitively and turned to look at Aiden. “Like seriously, you hear about crazy asylums from like the 50’s. Right?” Aiden nodded.

Jules reached out and tapped the photo. “This place never changed.”

Lydia turned to them. “It’s where William Barrow, the shrapnel bomber, was committed.”

Jules felt sick. She had been in the same facility as him and hadn’t even known. How could that be something that she didn’t know?

“They leave that out of the brochure.” She muttered bitterly.

“Is that it?” Aiden asked urgently.

Lydia nodded. “It’s where he is.” She looked back to the photo. “That’s where Stiles is.”

Jules thought of the sub levels and the understaffing and the fact that the place was downright creepy and that it was certainly possible for him to be there. But there was something urging her to voice that Lydia was wrong. That he wasn’t there. But she pushed it away. They had no proof otherwise and no time and one lead. And Lydia was already calling Scott.

Jules stepped back, her legs growing more painful by the second. But at least she was no longer shivering.

* * *

 

Jules caught Scott’s eye the moment they arrived at Eichen house. She was leaning heavily on the gate, holding her sides. She looked like her lack of sleep might be catching up with her. But she wouldn’t be sleeping tonight; Scott guessed that none of them would be.

“Lydia.” The Sheriff walked over to her, followed by two deputies. “I don’t wanna say ‘Are you sure about this?’ but…” He trailed off.

“No he’s here. I swear to god he’s here.” Lydia was adamant and Jules was silent, staring through the fence at the looming facility.

That seemed to be what the Sheriff needed to hear because within a minute they were charging through the front door of Eichen house. Scott turned as Jules stumbled over her own feet and careened into him. Concern swelled in his chest at her frozen touch. He didn't want to have to be worried about her to.

“Are you okay?” He asked as he helped her to the front desk.

Jules shrugged him off and nodded.

Scott didn’t believe her.

“I need access to all basement rooms in this facility.” The Sheriff ordered.

Jules was glowering at the man behind the desk. Scott could sense her rage, but it wasn’t enough to mask her fear. He wasn't going to think about Jules in this place. He figured it might be best to pretend she hadn't spent nearly half a year in the facility. Because he got a terrible feeling from Eichen House, and wanted nothing to do with it.

Scott shook off his feeling and focused on Lydia leading them through and down the facility. Scott trusted Lydia and he wanted her to be right more then he thought he’d ever wanted something before. He wasn’t going to lose Stiles. He wasn’t going to lose his best friend.

The Sheriff shoved open the door into part of the basement, desperate and furious. Lydia was shouting Stiles’ name. Jules was stumbling down the stairs behind them. The four of them searched the basement, but as soon as Scott’s feet hit the floor he knew. The only people down there were them. Stiles was nowhere to be found.

“Lydia?” He questioned, hoping she had an explanation. Because if she didn’t none of them did.

But Lydia looked just as shocked as any of them.

“I don’t get it.” She finally said. “This has to be it.”

Scott didn’t know what to say.

“Then where is he, huh?” Said the Sheriff. “Where is he? Where is he?” He shouted, turning to Lydia. She reeled back. Jules jerked her head up, staring at the Sheriff.

He stepped back, “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t understand.” Lydia said her voice barely audible.

Scott didn’t either. He didn’t understand why this was happening. He didn’t understand how there could be nothing he could do about it.

Scott followed Aiden, the Sheriff and Lydia up the stairs. But Jules stayed put seated on the bottom step. The four of them turned to her.

“Jules-” Scott started.

“What?” She snapped, cutting him off and pulling herself to her feet with the railing. “What Scott? What do you want to say?” Her voice was low and biting. She looked terrible.

“We’re gonna find him.” Scott said, trying to sound like he believed what he was saying.

Jules raised her eyes to his, cold and unforgiving. She looked like a version of herself, one Scott hadn’t seen. One that was a lot emptier then the girl he knew. “Yeah? What if he’s not even in a basement? You should be running around like some goddamn bloodhound.” She pointed at him. “We shouldn’t trust that the girl who was listening to string can tell us anything.” Her voice was eviscerating. 

Scott steeped in front of Lydia, but she moved down to face her friend. “Jules.” She said softly.

“Don’t Lydia.” She snapped. Looking away from them, into the basement. “Don-”

Jules stopped, focused on something behind the stairs. Her head tilted in clear confusion. Lydia furrowed her brow and glanced at Scott before taking another step down. Both Aiden and the Sheriff looked just as confused. But before anyone could say anything more Jules collapsed.

* * *

 

“Hypothermic.” Lydia muttered. “How can she be hypothermic?”

No one said anything. Lydia glanced between Scott and his parents.

“I’m serious.” She said. “I’m actually asking, how?”

The Sheriff walked in, forcing Lydia to abandon her train of thought. The four of them stood up, half eager and half afraid of whatever news the Sheriff had about Stiles.

“He’s sleeping now. And he’s just fine.” He sounded defeated and relieved all at once.

Lydia let out a sigh of relief.

“He doesn’t remember much. It’s a bit like a dream to him.” Sheriff said.

Lydia half listened to the Sheriff force McCall to accept his thanks. But her thought strayed to Jules and her face earlier that night.

_“He likes you a lot, doesn’t he?”_

Lydia had wanted to kill Aiden. Jules didn’t need to be second guessing herself but Lydia knew that was what had been going through her head. And it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair to anyone involved. Lydia recalled what Jules had said to her at the power station.

_“He likes you back you know.” “What? No he doesn’t. He can’t.”_

Lydia knew how many twisted reasons Jules must have had for her to think that was true. And that sketch was just going to be another one of them.

“All right, you two.” Melissa’s voice jolted her from her head. “You’ve got school in less than six hours. Go home. Go to sleep.”

Lydia watched as Scott hugged his mother and then turned to lead her away, his hand on her arm.

“I don’t know what happened.” She said quietly, still reeling from the disaster at Eichen House. “I was so sure.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t much help either.” Scott said softly. “Doesn’t matter if he’s okay.”

Lydia didn’t want to bring up that they both knew he wasn’t okay.

The sound of metal on metal filled her head and Lydia tried to force it out. Refusing to believe that anything she heard meant anything, other than on occasion, a dead body.

“Lydia did you hear something?” Scott asked.

She looked at him, waiting for the sound to die out. “No.” She said. I didn’t hear anything.

_“We shouldn’t trust that the girl who was listening to string can tell us anything.”_

Jules had been right. Lydia stopped, thinking back to the moment before Jules had collapsed in Eichen House.

“We need to talk to Jules.” She said.

Scott frowned, “Her parents just got here, I don’t know if-”

“No." She said firmly. "She saw something.” Lydia pressed. “And if we don’t talk to her now we won’t get to before she leaves.”

Scott furrowed his brow. “Leaves? Where?”

Lydia closed her eyes and let out a sigh. “She’ll be gone for maybe a few weeks, maybe a few days. It’s not important where.”

Scott looked like he wanted more, but he definitely knew better then to push. He nodded and followed Lydia to Jules.

Lydia didn’t know Mr. and Mrs. Hayes to fight, but she hadn’t really spent a lot of time with them in three years. And standing just outside of their daughter’s hospital room whisper-yelling at one another, they did not seem happy.

“You are trying to use this as an excuse to not let her go to New York.” Noah hissed at his wife.

“What if she’s sick? Nobody just comes down with hypothermia.” Charlotte snapped at him.

Awkwardly, Scott cleared his throat and they both froze, turning around and Noah stepped away from the door.

“Not right now.” Charlotte said coldly.

“You can go in.” Noah told them.

Neither Lydia nor Scott moved, but Lydia didn’t take her eyes away from Charlotte. She knew how difficult she had a habit of being and Lydia wasn’t planning on backing down.

“We’ll be quick.” She said easily and walked forward. Reaching back to tug Scott along behind her.

With great reluctance Charlotte stepped out of the way and glowered at the two of them. Lydia didn’t need to be a werewolf to tell Charlotte was scaring the hell out of Scott.

Quietly Lydia pushed open the door and was faced with a petulant Jules.

“I don’t need to be here.” She said lividly.

Lydia rolled her eyes and approached the foot of the bed, Scott by her side.

“He’s fine.” He said to her.

Jules didn’t say anything back; she just stared at her IV bag.

“He’s not. I think that’s clear.” She said. Her voice was strong, stronger than it had been all night. Evidently, not freezing to death could do wonders for attitude.

Lydia could feel Scott shift his weight uncomfortably and Lydia decided that she didn’t want to be in this room any longer then she had to. Jules could and would turn volatile with the right circumstances. And the events of that night were enough to do it.

“You saw something.” Lydia said softly. “In the basement, before you passed out. What was it?”

Lydia watched in dismay as Jules furrowed her brow and looked back to them.

“What?” She asked.

Scott sighed, “You were looking at something but then…”

Lydia’s heart clenched. Then she collapsed, with no warning, no indication of anything being wrong. Jules had been freezing to death and she hadn’t even noticed. No one had. Lydia wanted to feel guilty but she couldn't help but wonder how Jules hadn't noticed.

“I don’t know.” Jules said softly. “This whole night feels like a dream.”

Lydia could hear how much that scared her, but she had a sick hope that somewhere in that dream Jules had forgotten about the sketch. She felt Scott stiffen beside her.

“What do you mean?” he pressed. “What exactly do you remember?”

Jules shrugged, “I don’t know. I was in my yard and Stiles called me. And I was cold and I was in his room and my legs hurt, I guess from the running. Then we went-”

“Your legs?” Scott questioned.

Jules nodded, “Yeah, like a bitch. It’s stopped now. Why?” She asked him, an expectant look on her face.

Scott shook his head. “Nothing.”

It didn’t look like Jules had a shred of belief in him meaning that but she let it slide.

“Scott. Could I talk to Lydia?” She asked. There was an edge in her voice that Lydia didn’t like at all.

Part of her just wanted to go but it died as Scott left the room and Lydia stood there studying her friend. She looked sad, a kind of sadness that Lydia had never seen on her before. Any anger, any pain seemed to have drained out of her. Lydia would never think of Jules as someone who could or would ever be defeated, who would ever give up. But in that moment, it looked like a possibility.

“What’s up?” Lydia asked, trying to sound like she expected something lighthearted to come of the conversation.

“I remember the sketch.” Jules said in a low voice.

Lydia’s heart sank and she was tempted to look away from Jules.

“Listen, I don’t-” Lydia began.

“No, it doesn’t matter. I believed you, the other night.” Jules said, holding Lydia’s gaze. If she was lying Lydia couldn’t tell. “But I don’t want to get into something that’s gonna hurt me and I can’t tell right from left with shit like this.”

Lydia furrowed her brow, “I don’t think I know what you mean.”

Jules sat up in her bed. “It doesn’t matter how much he likes me if he loves somebody else.”

Lydia shook her head, growing livid with Jules. “He doesn’t.” She said in as strong of a voice that she could muster. “You’re just trying to find reasons that he shouldn’t have feelings for you.”

Jules scoffed, “Lydia he framed your drawing. That’s tough to defend.”

Lydia rolled her eyes. “You can’t use a drawing to ignore how he looks at you. You can’t use that to hide that he notices everything you do. And you certainly can’t use that as an excuse to distract yourself from thinking that because of your past no one would want you.” Lydia’s voice shook with anger. Not at Jules but at everything that she’s had to go through, everything she’s endured and the fact that she still might not put herself on the pedestal she deserved to be on.

Jules brought her eyes away from Lydia. It was a small action but they both knew what it meant. Lydia was right, and they both hated it.

“He doesn’t know.” She said stubbornly.

Lydia sighed, “Then tell him.” She said and paused at Jules’s horrified expression. “Or don’t.” She added firmly. “Either way he’s going to laugh at your bad jokes when no one else will. And he’s going let you do stupid things as long as you take him with you.”

Jules opened her mouth to reply but the door swung open and Charlotte stood with her hands on her hips.

“That’s enough Lydia.” She told her and there was no room in her tone for an argument.

Reluctantly, Lydia turned away from Jules and stalked out of the room. She was poorly fighting off the feeling that time was running out.

* * *

 

Jules braced herself at the door. Words spun in her head and she didn’t even know what she meant to do by coming to the hospital. All she knew was that she had no idea what to say but less than five minutes to say it. But she needed to say something, do something, or else she was going to be sitting on the stand and thinking about someone who was across the country. She froze and counted to three and then pushed open the door.

* * *

 

Stiles stared at Jules, unable to figure out what he should say to her. He was stuck somewhere between wanting to be honest and desperately wanting her to think he was fine. She looked like she was at just as much of a loss for words as he was. Which was terrifying, when had she ever run out of things to say?

_Say something. Don’t just look at her._

But Stiles couldn’t think of anything that could possibly better the situation they were in. He was either dying or something that might be worse and she was leaving for nobody knew how long. Stiles knew he could tell her that he didn’t want to her to go, but he knew that wouldn’t do any good.

“I left my axe in your bedroom.” She blurted out.

A smile tugged at his lips. Because of course she would come up with a way to fill the silence, of course she had an axe and of course she left it in his bedroom. How was any of that supposed to surprise him?

Tentatively, Jules crossed the tiny and stark room to sit next to him on the exam bed. She took his hand and Stiles still couldn’t think of something to say.

_“Remember when I ditched you at that party? I’m still sorry.” “Thanks for driving me to the hospital because I was losing my mind.” “I have a rough idea of what you’re leaving to do about you’re going to kick ass.”_

But he kept his mouth shut, unsure of his voice and unsure if anything he said would come out right. And he didn’t help that Stiles couldn’t stop thinking about the black-light party, how ordinary they both had been until everything had gone to shit. For such a short space of time they had been humans like everyone else, they had existed in the world that maybe they both belonged in. And Stiles didn’t know how thank her for that. For being just as not equipped as he was and dealing with it anyway.

“Jules-” He started, but not knowing how he was going to finish. But Stiles was cut off by a bone crushing hug and her voice in his ear, steadier then she had any right to be.

“You’re going to be fine.”

Stiles returned her right embrace, trying not to think about every single thing he would probably never know how or find the courage, to say to her. He tried not to feel her breath on his neck and how much he wanted her to stay. He was relieved when she let go, trailing her hands down his arms.

Jules was looking him in the eye and her touch burned. Stiles wondered if he as ever going to get a moment with her that wasn’t about to end with something terrible.

Stiles nodded, “Yeah.” He said quietly and she stood up and Stiles could tell that like him there was a lot that she wasn’t saying. “Yeah, you too.”

Jules tried to give him a smile as she pulled her hands from his. “Don’t worry about me.” She tried to say lightly.

Stiles forced himself not to watch as she left the room. He didn’t feel alone, so maybe he could pretend that he wasn’t.

 


	27. Fiat Justita

**Chapter Twenty Seven – Fiat justitia**

* * *

 

Jules awoke in a stark white room. She was entangled in red string. It twined around her fingers and wove through her hair. It bound her legs and her wrists and was draped all around her body. She lay still. Her eyes following the web of string as it trailed away from her body, bleeding across the empty and endless room. Jules struggled to sit up; the threads rooted her in place. They tethered her to the flood. Her mind raced with fear, but she couldn’t grasp a thought. As she tried to cry out her voice was stuck in her throat. Panic swelled in her chest with the lack of room, and then the web moved.

Jules screamed out silently and fought against the threads as she was dragged across the floor. She couldn’t raise her head enough to see where she as being pulled. She thrashed against the string, trying in vain to rip herself free.

The silence in the room was suddenly filled with an overwhelming chorus of whispers. They were incoherent and vague and deafening. She wanted to scream but her voice was silent or it was lost among the hissing.

“What do you want?” She tried to scream, her eyes burned and fear ripped through her veins. “What do you want?”

The room fell silent as Jules grew more and more entangled in the web of string. There was an incredible sinking feeling in her chest as she was drawn closer and closer to what, she didn’t know.

The tug stopped but Jules’ trashing didn’t. Not until footsteps rang out, echoing around the room. Jules turned her head; her breath was labored and shaking. She didn’t trust her voice. She wasn’t even sure if she could speak. Jules furrowed her brow in confusion at the sight of a stump, or more accurately, the nemeton, and the figure sat on it.

Her heart crawled into her throat with fear. “Stiles?” She voice rang out, unsure and terrified.

He gave her a smile, too cold for the boy she knew.

“No.”

* * *

 

Jules woke up screaming his name, locked in her sister’s arms. For a moment she didn’t understand where she was.

_I hadn’t been asleep. I can’t have been asleep._

But she had been. She had been dreaming, having a nightmare.

Gail’s voice was a comfort in the darkness of their shared hotel room. Jules thrashed against her sheets, her heart pounded in her head and fear was fresh in her mind.

“You’re fine.” Gail assured. Her voice was strong and authoritative. She was a pillar, she always had been. “You’re fine. Jules you’re safe.”

Jules leaned back into her sister, reveling in having kicked off her sheets. Her mind buzzed with white noise and the Stiles that wasn’t Stiles was plastered onto the back of her eyelids.

_He’s not._

* * *

 

Abigail Hayes hated Erin Giles with a passion. She hated that Erin had steered her away from deferring her acceptance so that she could spend a year with Jules before she left. She hated that Erin had lurked in Eichen house even before Charlotte had hired her. She hated that she seemed to know so much and say so little. She hated that Jules didn’t trust Erin. She hated that Jules hadn’t noticed that she didn’t.

Gail seethed as she picked away at a deflated muffin, watching Erin eye her sister behind her overpriced omelet. And Jules seemed oblivious, lost in her head again.

“How did you sleep?” Erin asked easily.

Gail sat with her memory of the night, not wanting to share a second of it with the psychiatrist. Not wanting to share the three nights of screaming and thrashing she’d witnessed. Her sister never seemed asleep; she had just seemed like a wandering mind with closed eyes. The night before had also revealed to Gail that she herself wasn’t as strong as she thought she was. Gail had to keep reminding herself that it was okay for her to be broken to.

Gail watched as Jules dragged her eyes up from an unfortunate looking pancake. “Like a baby.” She said dryly.

Gail caught her sister’s eye, shooting her a small smile. "You can sleep on the way to the courthouse."

Erin didn’t seem impressed.

“I understand how hard this is going to be for you.” She said softly, “And I understand if you want your space.” Her eyes flicked to Gail and rage crept up Gail’s spine.

Jules glanced disinterestedly at Erin. “I’ve changed my mind.” She locked eyes with her sister, the same mean shade of blue. “I don’t have anything to hide.”

Erin nodded and Gail couldn’t help but watch something cross her face. Slight and unidentifiable, but unnerving nonetheless. But Gail didn’t have time to contemplate Erin, not when Jules was backing off of her position on the trial. Gail knew that Jules wanted to do it on her own. She wanted to spare them what they might not know. She wanted her past to stay with her where Jules thought it belonged.

“What?” Gail asked, more abruptly then she’d intended.

Jules rolled her eyes, “If you’re not there, some asshole juror is gonna be like ‘even her family thinks she’s a whore’.” Jules stated.

Gail studied her sister’s still expression.

_The only crime you have to prove took place._

Gail hadn’t thought that convincing a jury that a fifteen year old girl wasn’t choosing to be a prostitute would be difficult. According to Erin and the D.A and Charlotte it could be. Gail had to remind herself that she didn’t have all the details. That everything she knew had come from the FBI and her mother and people who didn’t look at the other side.

“That’s not what you are.” Erin said. Her voice was firm.

Jules sighed, “Obviously I know what I am. But it’s the job of some overpaid, overly empathetic lawyer to undermine what I know. ”

Gail nearly cringed at the venom in her sister’s voice. Her stomach churned with what the defense attorney might have prepared for her sister.

Erin opened her mouth to say something and Gail swiftly cut her off.

“Whatever happens we’re on the other side of the country. And like you said,” she paused and locked eyes with her younger sister, “you know what you are.”

Gail held Jules’ hard gaze. It had been so long since Gail had looked her in the eye and told her something she knew was true. Jules was self-assured and she had always been. She was a lot like their father. Gail wondered if maybe she should tell her. If that was something Jules would want to hear.

But Gail didn’t get her chance because Charlotte and Noah appeared in the doorway of the restaurant, waving them into the lobby. Their driver had arrived, and within the hour, court would be in session.

* * *

 

Jules stared down at the board, her heart in her throat. She couldn’t play Go, she wasn’t even that good at chess. The not Stiles was watching her, she could feel his lazy and predatory gaze. But now that she could move, now that she had something to think about other than being alone in a white room with a monster wearing Stiles’ face, she wasn’t as scared.

It pained her to think that she was getting used to his uncomfortable and domineering presence, but she was accustomed to that sort of person. In fact, to Jules, there were few differences between the monster before her and the men she would face in court. Two sides of the same controlling, sadistic, and violating coin.

Jules brought her eyes up to his, furious and cold. “How am I supposed to beat you at a game I don’t know how to play?” She snapped, glad that her anger was plastering over her fear. He didn’t belong in her head.

He drummed his fingers on the wood of the nemeton, holding her enraged gaze. “You don’t.”

Jules narrowed her eyes, her heart beat with every lie she was telling herself.

_He’s just like any other psycho. He can’t do anything to you in your own dream. He’s not real._

“What do you want?” She asked. Her voice was low and dark with her refusal to let her fear show. Jules’ panic coursed through her veins and it burned. But she would let it burn her from the inside out if it meant not letting in show on her face.

He leaned forward and Jules shoved down her instinct to lean away. Ignoring her survival instinct was something she had perfected a long time ago.

“I want you to tell me why.” He said, slow and calm.

His dark eyes lazily explored her face. They didn’t stray, for which Jules was both disgusted by and also thankful.

She set her jaw, “That’s the vaguest question I’ve ever been asked.”

He cocked an eyebrow and Jules felt her stomach lurch. Looking at him was like looking at Stiles through a broken mirror. Him, but not him. It reminded Jules of her refection in Lydia’s doorway, her first night home.

_Me, but not me. I became me._

“Make a move.” He said more forcefully.

Jules looked back down at the board; the black pieces were creeping up on the white. She could see which side was supposed to belong to her; she could see some of the moves she should make. Jules pressed her finger down on a black stone and moved it forward. She didn’t look back up at him.

He made an indignant noise, “That was my piece.”

Slowly, Jules brought her eyes back up to him, mimicking his calm and threatening façade.

“I know.” Her voice was clear, “But you told me to move a piece.” She leaned back, refusing to break her eyes away from his. “Next time, be a little clearer.”

He continued to drum his fingers on the rings of the tree, Jules wondered if she was supposed to care. She was too busy on trying not to waver under his gaze. She hated the unpredictable. Jules remembered a world where there was nothing that couldn’t be explained. She remembered understanding that world. Chaos hadn’t been a real thing. There was what Jules knew and what she had yet to learn. Staring the unknown in the face was terrifying; especially when she wasn’t sure at what moment he would change the game.

He moved the stone back to where it had been. “I want to know why you.”

Jules frowned, her brow furrowed. “What is that supposed to mean?”

* * *

 

Noah’s eyes flicked to Erin and her nervous fidgeting with her briefcase.

“You testified yesterday.” He muttered. “What are you nervous for?” His voice was gruff and biting.

Erin sighed, “And you’re not nervous?”

Noah clenched his jaw, wondering if Erin’s goal was getting under his skin. He wasn’t going to lie, he hated psychology. Noah had been made to see a psychiatrist after he’d left the military. To him there was nothing worse than being sat down and instructed to work through is feelings under the watchful eye of somebody else. And he knew that Erin could see how he felt. So Noah wasn’t planning on dignifying her question with a response.

“She’s a strong girl Noah, independent.” She told him.

Noah shot her a glare, “What? You think I don’t know that? Which one of us raised her?” He asked her pointedly. “And you can call me Mr. Hayes.”

Erin gave him a sympathetic look and her eyes drifted away from him, into the street. “In my experience, Mr. Hayes,” she emphasized enough to hit all the right nerves, “teenagers are shaped most by what they contend with outside of the home. Jules is very different from Gail, and from her parents.”

Noah glowered at the back of her head, having little understanding of what she was getting at, but hating it nonetheless. “And?” He asked, growing more irritated by the second.

Erin glanced back at him, annoyingly passive, “Nothing, it’s just an observation.”

Noah leaned back into the seat, shutting his eyes. He wanted the next few days to pass by without him or Charlotte blowing a gasket. Or at the very least, he just wanted them to pass by.

* * *

 

Jules hadn’t realized how many eyes were going to be on her. She tried to stop herself from looking anywhere but straight ahead, past her family, past the lawyers and past the defendants. She wasn’t going to look at them. Jules had promised herself that much.

Jules could feel the weight of the attention of the room and the silence of the court. She couldn’t help but notice there were a lot more people sitting behind the accused then the prosecution. Jules could feel Detective Harper trying to catch her eyes. He was someone she had declined to think about in a long time.

The judge cleared his throat and the sound sent shivers up her spine.

_This is it. It’s starting. It’s happening. Fuck. What the fuck._

She could feel her heart beating wildly. Jules wondered what would happen if she threw up in court.

She turned her head up towards the judge. Jules hadn’t thought about how imposing he was going to be. The man seemed ageless and cold.

“State and spell your name for the court.” He said.

Jules wished that he would at least sound like at some point in his life he had felt an emotion.

“Juliet Hayes.” She said as clearly as she could, fighting with her heart in her throat. She kept her eyes ahead as she spelt out her name.

Her voice was swallowed by the room; she could feel each person taking it in, learning in. Most of them probably hadn’t known, maybe they hadn’t cared.

“Would you like to affirm or swear on the Holy book?” He asked.

Jules’ eyes flicked down to the Torah, she hadn’t considered her faith coming into the court house. She had forgotten about this part. Jules didn’t even know if she still had any.

_Could it hurt? No._

“The book.” Jules said, trying to force calm into her voice.

She could almost hear her mother’s relief as she delicately placed her hand on the book. Jules was certain she hadn’t touched one in years.

“Do you solemnly swear that you will tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?” He asked.

Jules knew those words, those were the famous words. The sound of him saying truth rang in her head. This was the end of her hiding things. She knew that once she walked out of the courtroom, everything she had kept hidden about those three years would be sprawled out in the open. Jules knew she was gutting herself for a room full of people.

“I do.” She said. She was proud of those two words. They had come out the cleanest, the loudest.

“Please be seated.” He said.

Jules sat down and finally dragged her eyes to the jury, seven woman and five men, each of them looking back at her. Jules put on her best attempt at guilelessness. She knew that she was going to be stripped to the bone, why look like she expected anything different.

* * *

 

Jules careened into the court house bathroom, her hands shaking uncontrollably. It had been going fine. It was fine. She could hear her sister’s harsh words from outside. Jules had no idea who she could be talking to. She couldn’t think. She couldn't breathe.

She bent over the sink, struggling to turn on the tap. She needed something, anything to focus on. Her head pounded and her heart raced. Tears streamed down her face and she couldn’t stop shaking. She didn’t want to be there.

_This was a mistake. I should have known what would happen. This is my fault._

Jules pushed herself against the wall, slamming her back on the hand dryer. She slid down to the floor, her hand stifling her sobs. Her sister was still barricading the bathroom, locked in a furious argument with someone who could have been anyone. Jules squeezed her eyes shut. She had thought, had hoped, that the trial would be the one piece of her ordeal that she wouldn’t want completely obliterated from her mind. But there it would stay a reminder of why Juliet Hayes had a burning hatred for having the truth ripped out of her like it didn’t belong to her. Hot tears rolled down her face with the knowledge that her truth, her past, wasn’t at her mercy. She had just given it away, and she hadn’t been ready.

* * *

 

_Jules tried not to watch as the defense attorney unfolded herself from her seat. She had been silent while Espinosa had asked her questions, while Jules had retold her story, her horror. She had been silent, making the occasional note. That had terrified Jules.  That meant that she, Marie Jacobs, knew exactly was she was going to do._

_Jules tried not to let her apprehension show, she had to be confident. She knew that. But under the watchful gaze of the jury and the lawyer’s look of distain Jules wanted to let her façade waver. She wondered what would happen if she let everyone know how scared she was, Jules wondered if that would help._

_“That was a heartbreaking story Miss Hayes.” She said. She sounded so genuine that Jules could have believed her if she didn’t know that Maria was about to try and rip that story to shreds._

_Jules said nothing in response, she didn’t think she should. What was she supposed to say? ‘Yes it did suck a lot, thank you.’_

_She shifted in her seat as the attorney walked closer. Jules wondered how she could do it. Jules had never been able to understand women who stood to defend rapists. Marie Jacobs wasn’t court appointed, she had made a choice. Much in the same way that Jules had never been given a choice._

_“But are you sure you told it correctly?” She continued, dropping the niceties._

_Jules, as scared as she was, had little tolerance for this. She knew what happened to her. She’d been grilled over and over again._

_“Yes.” Jules said quietly but curtly, hyper-aware of the twelve people she had to convince._

_Jacobs nodded. It was the kind of nod that reeked of condescension._

_“Juliet, can I call you Juliet?” She asked, a small grin on her face._

_“No.” Jules said flatly._

_The small grin faltered, **“** Miss Hayes, can you be really sure of what you remember?”_

* * *

 

Gail watched as her mother jumped down Ben Espinosa’s throat while Noah stood by, clearly knowing that he was the most intimidating person in the hallway. She stood outside the bathroom, allowing her sister the moments she needed to recollect.

Erin walked over to her calmly, looking far to put together for the mess of the situation. In a flurry of aggressive motion Gail grabbed the women’s arm and yanked her around the corner.

“What the hell was that?” She hissed, her blood boiling, blue eyes burning.

Erin lightly pushed her off, maintaining her still demeanor. “A cross examination.”

The light above them flickered meekly and added to the long list of reasons Gail was a second away from slamming her fist into the wall. Gail pushed Erin back again, assuring that her back hit the wall.

“Cross examination, not crucifixion!" She said violently. "You gave them that line of questioning!” She shouted, not caring who heard her.

Gail hadn’t given much thought to Erin’s testimony the day before. Mostly because she had been speaking about rape victims and mental illness in the abstract, because Erin had been eloquent but artfully vague on the topic. Now she was enraged.

“All I did was tell the truth.” Erin rebutted, anger bled into her words.

_So the robot does feel._

“And that meant giving them all the ammunition they needed to make my sister look delusional?” Gail asked incredulously.

Erin pursed her lips, “I gave an honest testimony.” She reiterated. “PTSD, insomnia and acute stress disorders all have the potential to distort memory recollection. Especially if they’re paired with drug abuse at the time of the event. Not to mention her manic episodes in Eichen House.”

Gail smacked her hand into the wall beside Erin’s head. The woman didn’t flinch.

“Could you stop being so goddamn clinical and admit that you are the reason she broke down in there!” Gail snapped.

Erin stepped forward, far too close to Gail for comfort. “You are looking for someone to blame and you are lashing out. Take a moment to breathe.” She said in a still voice.

Gail seethed as she watched Erin turn and walk away from her. Her heels clicked irritatingly on the floor.

Gail didn’t turn back around the corner; she couldn’t face her parents or a lawyer or anyone. She slid down the wall, her head in her hands. Gail choked on her breath as she tried to hold in her sobs. She clutched a nearby bench. She had spent over three years grappling with the question why, with her faith, with her family. She leaned her head against the cold stone wall and tried not to think about how their lives were supposed to have gone much, much differently.

* * *

 

Jules pulled herself up from the floor, doing her best to force Marie Jacobs out of her head. There was a knock on the door.

“Jules?”

Her mother sounded soft. A drastic opposite to what Jules knew of her.

“Just a second!” Jules said back, her voice was raw and shattered.

She splashed cool water onto her face, baring no mind for her already ruined no-makeup makeup nonsense. Jules tired her best to wash away the evidence of bursting into tears in a courtroom. She sobbed, doubling over and clutching the sides of the sink. Marie Jacobs’ voice was still ringing in her head.

* * *

 

_“Miss Hayes, you have been diagnosed and are currently on medication for several mental disorders, yes?”_

_Jules nodded, her heart beat rising with every word the lawyer said. “Yes.”_

_“These disorders are post-traumatic stress disorder, persistent insomnia and an acute stress disorder, correct?” She pressed, her voice was light._

_Jules felt her throat tighten, tears pricked her eyes. She knew this line of questioning, she was terrified of it._

_“You have also suffered from several manic episodes?” She continued._

_Jules stared at her hands, watching pitifully as they shook. “Yes.”_

_The attorney continued to walk forwards; she was within arm’s reach of Jules. She hated it. She wanted her to at least have the decency to back off._

_“And these were linked to withdrawal from opioid abuse, yes?” She said, completely void of any sympathy._

_Jules dragged her eyes up, avoiding what must have been the confused and shocked faces of her family. Jules had never admitted to the drugs. She had just let it sit as an idea that Erin and her doctors had. She tried to stop her shaking hands._

_“Miss Hayes,” She pressed. “I need you to answer the question.”_

_Jules stared furiously at the women in front of her. “Yes.” She said again, making her best attempt at sounding like she had some dignity._

_The attorney nodded and her eyes flicked to the jury as she began her slow walk towards them._

_“Are you aware of the impact each of these factors can have on long-term memory recollection?” She asked in an easy voice, the voice of someone completely okay with what they were doing._

_“I’m aware of a potential impact.” Jules said. Her words cut through her fear. They came out quiet, but she was clear._

_Marie turned back to Jules, a smug look on her face that told Jules her answer hadn’t mattered. She was about to be eviscerated._

_“Potential. That is an interesting technicality.” She said._

_“Objection.” Espinosa’s harsh voice cut in as he almost leapt up from his chair. “That wasn’t a question.”_

_“Sit down Ben.” The judge said wearily._

_“Miss Hayes, did you know that inaccurate witness accounts are responsible for the majority of wrongful convictions?” She asked, aggression was edging into her words._

_Jules wanted to vomit._

_“Objection.” Espinosa cut in again, almost yelling. “Relevance?”_

_Tears burned in her eyes and Jules wanted anything but to shed them._

_“Overruled.” The judge said. His voice peppered with irritation._

_Marie once again was merely a foot away from Jules, “Miss Hayes, do you unequivocally, trust your own memory?” She stepped the tiniest bit closer and Jules felt tiny under her gaze. “Do you trust your own mind enough that the jury can to? Or is it possible that you have misinterpreted events due to the trauma you experienced before you even met my clients?” Her words were biting._

_Jules stared blankly at the attorney, tears rolled down her face._

_“I told you what happened to me.” She said. Her voice uneven and shaking. And finally, Jules brought her eyes to the defendants, Mr. Anderson and Mr. Byrant. “I told you what they did to me.” She snapped. Her entire body shook._

_“You told us what you think happened to you.”_

* * *

 

Jules was dragged from the memory by her mother’s heels on the tile. Charlotte shut off the sink as it began to overflow.

“The drainage here is terrible.” Jules muttered flatly as she watched the water slowly seep away. She wished that it was feasible for her to disappear down a drain. Her life would be considerably less complicated.

Charlotte kept her distance from her daughter and Jules thanked her for it.

“You don’t have to take the stand again.” Charlotte said.

Jules liked the words, but she couldn’t ignore how heartbroken her mother sounded.

“I’m sensing a ‘but’.” Jules mumbled.

Charlotte sighed, shaking with tears unshed.

“But, you’d have to recant your statements.” 


	28. Fiat Justita II

** Chapter Twenty Eight – Fiat Justita II **

* * *

 

Jules wasn’t sure she’d heard her mother right.

_“But you’d have to recant your statements.”_

She stared at her, studying Charlotte’s heartbroken face. It was an alien expression to Jules. Her mother didn’t look like that. But at the same time, to Jules her sister didn’t cry and her father was never unsure. Everything was different, everyone had changed.

Jules watched her mother open her mouth to say something else but Erin opened the door.

“There’s a conference room available downstairs.” She said flatly, glancing around the bathroom.

Jules nodded, unable to grasp any of the thoughts that raced through her head. She saw her mother grab her hands but she didn’t feel it. She just felt numb.

“Wait a second.” Charlotte hissed at Erin before turning back to Jules, her eyes burned with the determination that Jules knew. “Jules are you listening?” She asked. Her voice was clear.

Jules nodded, wary of what her mother might say. Her heart raced and she felt her eyes stinging with tears again. She didn’t want to cry. Jules wanted to be finished with crying. She figured she had done enough of it for a lifetime.

“It doesn’t matter.” Charlotte said. Her voice was bold.

Jules cocked her head, not understanding. There was a bitter taste in her mouth. Charlotte sighed.

“Whether or not you recant your statement, it doesn’t matter. Not now that they’ve heard it.” Her voice was sharp. “They won’t forget you, no matter what the judge says.”

Jules furrowed her brow, “Can they even do this?”

Charlotte pursed her lips in clear annoyance, “The defence has given the DA and the Judge an ultimatum, you finish testifying or we all pretend you never did. They’re claiming that if they don’t get to finish with you it isn’t fair and that it’s grounds for a mistrial and whole load of other legal bullshit.” Her voice was soaked in bitterness.

Jules looked down to the floor, her head was spinning.

“So now what?” Jules asked, feeling helpless and pitiful and enraged about it. She brought her eyes up to her mother.

Charlotte held her gaze, steady and proud. “We go downstairs and we figure it out.”

Jules’ stomach churned, “You mean I pick one.”

Her mother brushed Jules’ hair behind her ears, “Exactly,” She said, her voice soft. “You pick one. You don’t have to justify yourself, no one’s going to stand in your way.”

Charlotte pushed open the door and Jules stepped through, doubting that anyone was going let her make a decision without adding in their own two cents. If she had the energy she’d be furious. The kicking and screaming kind of rage. Jules had thought freedom would mean getting to make her choices on her own. Now she wasn’t even sure whatfreedom meant.

* * *

 

Jules sat frozen at the head of the table, her sister on her left and Erin on her right. Ben and Charlotte paced at opposite ends of the room, shooting violent looks in the other’s direction. Noah stood still, standing behind Gail.

“So there’s nothing you can do?” Noah asked, his dark eyes flicking to the attorney.

His voice was ragged, it pained Jules to hear it and know that she was the cause. She hated being able to look at her family and know how much pain and trouble she’d brought to them.

“No.” Ben said curtly. “If there was I would have done it.”

Charlotte rolled her eyes, “You could try talking to her.”

Gail nodded in agreement, “Make sure she knows that she’s a sympathizing piece of-”

“Hey.” Noah cut her off.

Jules put her head in her hands, wishing that they would shut up. 

“I know Marie, there’s no talking to her.” Ben said sourly, “It’s why she gets results.” He muttered.

Charlotte let out a sigh of exasperation, “So talk to the judge.”

“The Judge doesn’t like him.” Erin said plainly, looking to Ben, “Am I right?”

Noah sighed, “Great.” He mumbled.

Ben didn’t defend himself, instead he loosened his tie. Jules watched the gears turn in her mother’s head as she chose something else to snap at him. Quickly and aggressively Jules yanked her sister’s bag towards her and pulled out her IPod and headphones.

“I need to think.” She snapped, yanking on the headphones.

She heard Ben say her name but she ignored him, searching for the angriest song on her sister’s IPod. Which, knowing Gail, was Britney Spears.

Jules watched from the corner of her eye as Erin reached out and pulled off the headphones, “You need to listen to him.” She said, her voice was soft and meant to be persuasive. Jules just found it patronizing. She decided that the next person to try and persuade her to do anything was getting punched. And in a violent motion she swivelled her chair around to face Ben, eyebrows raised and nauseous with knowing what he would want her to do.

“You are integral to this case.” He said steadily. “We have evidence and police officers and all the technical pieces. But you make it human. You give these girls a face and a voice.”

He was sincere and Jules knew it, it hurt. She knew how important she was. She knew she was the only one testifying because she was she only one who didn’t live in New York. The only one who had a home to return to. And she knew how it felt to be helpless.

“So you need me?” She clarified, her voice was small.

Ben nodded and Jules turned away from him, her mind was crowded. It was like there wasn’t space in her mind or her heart for all that she had to contend with.

Erin caught Jules’ eye, “You’re exceptionally strong. I think you can do this.” She pressed.

Jules narrowed her eyes and thought back to her uncontrollable shaking and sobbing in the bathroom and how the thought of defending her story made her heart race with fear.

_I think you’re full of shit._

Jules didn’t say anything to Erin; instead she looked across the room to her mother’s stiff expression. She was glowering at Ben and Erin. Jules didn’t need to ask to know what she thought. Gail took a pen out of her bag and chucked it at Erin. Erin shot her a withering look, Gail was smug.

Jules could taste what she had eaten that morning and she would have sworn Ben hadn’t blinked in a minute. And suddenly the presence of people on every side of her was suffocating. Her breath was catching in her throat and Jules wanted nothing more than to be outside in the freezing Manhattan air. She jerked up out of her seat.

“I’m going outside.” She stated. Her voice was unsteady.

“No you’re not.” Ben told her.

Jules looked to her mother, she nodded. “Ten minutes.” Charlotte said.

Jules hoped that was all she would need.

* * *

 

 

Jules had underestimated how cold it was, within moments she was shivering like she had been the night Stiles had gone missing. Her heart clenched with the memory. Jules wondered how many memories she had that she wanted to go without. She wondered what the healthy amount was, and how far past the cut off she must have been. Jules stared at the passing cars and people. Glad that none of them knew or cared who she was. They probably didn’t notice her sitting there, small and cold in a stupid blue dress. Jules took a deep breath and fought to clear her head, working to simplify the choice. It was technically simple, to walk away from a fight, or to not do that.

She pressed her hands into her temples and forced herself to think. Jules thought of recovery, of putting herself first. Of how badly she had been trying to do both. She thought of Stiles pulling her onto a crowded dance floor and not being afraid. She thought of Lydia and Allison tugging her around a mall and Scott’s persistent and unwavering caring. Jules thought back to the plane ride over, sat next to her sister and watching Legally Blonde in near unison. Laughing at the jokes just a second apart. Jules remembered her father barging into the Sheriff’s station to protect her. Her mother learning to apologize, learning how to exist again around her daughter.

Jules knew what she should do for the world. She knew what Anderson and Byrant deserved. But Jules also knew what she deserved. And she knew she didn’t deserve to be crucified for everything that she had to endure. Jules knew that what mattered was that she knew the truth. She didn’t blame herself.

Jules stared at the city, strangely happy that she knew it. The Brooklyn Bridge was behind her and the entirety of Manhattan was spread out in front of her, towering over her. She loved New York, but the city had taken a lot from her. It wasn’t going to take whatever pride she had left.

She set her jaw and stood up, relishing the feeling of the fall air biting her skin.

Jules wasn’t going back into that courtroom. She wasn’t going to sit in front of those men and let them take anything else from her. She wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction of knowing she’s at the mercy of their lawyer. Jules knew that they enjoyed watching her get torn apart, and she wasn’t about to give them anything else. She knew that she shouldn’t have to defend the truth.

_I survived, that should be enough._

Jules remembered Erin asking her why she didn’t call herself a survivor and Jules had said she wasn’t until the trial was over. But that wasn’t it and Jules knew that now. She had already survived; she’d been surviving for years. She thought back to the fall air biting into her skin and an axe in her hands and telling herself that her future began after the trial. And it still did. It began with a choice. It began with the one thing that for so long had been taken from her.

Her dress fluttered around her knees as she turned around and headed back up the stairs, going back inside far bolder then she’d been coming out.  Jules guessed that’s what choice was. It was power.

* * *

 

 

Jules stopped at the door into the conference room, her heart pounded in her head. Was this the right decision? What if she regretted it? What if she had more time to choose?

_Would it be different if I had a day and not an hour?_

She could feel her eyes start to burn again and Jules wanted this to be over.

_Then end it._

Jules clenched her jaw. She wanted an ending. She wanted to move on. 

_You can’t change your mind. There’s no going back._

Jules also knew that going back was never an option, not ever. Swiftly, the pushed open the door and prepared herself for the worst.

* * *

 

Noah hated being anxious. His father had taught him to keep a level head, the corps had drilled that lesson into him and that was what he taught his children. And yet there was, trying not to fidget while staring at the stony face of his youngest daughter. If Jules was afraid she was hiding it well, Noah couldn't decide if that was a good thing.

“I’m not going to do it.” Jules said. Her voice cut through the heavy silence of the room and Noah felt like an anvil had been lifted from his chest. He didn't know if he could watch Jules hurt again, even in the name of what was supposed to be justice.

“Are you sure?” Espinosa asked hesitantly.

Charlotte shot the man a look so severe Noah was reminded that if he didn’t love her he would be afraid of her. Gail’s eyes were on her sister, soft and understanding.

“It’s a question worth asking.” Erin said calmly, looking to Charlotte. “That was a complex decision.”

Noah didn’t look at her, his eyes on his daughter. She stood just apart from them, close to the wall. He used to do that, in the months after returning from overseas for the last time. Noah had kept everyone at a distance with his back to a wall. He had kept it to himself when he woke up to the sound of helicopter blades that were across the ocean. It was agonizing for him to know that his teenage daughter grappled with almost the same thing and he still couldn't think of anything to say to her when she jumped at a noise or when her light came on at three in the morning. And he couldn’t think of anything to say to her now as she stood in front of him, having just made a choice that Noah couldn’t fathom.

“Not really.” Jules said in a cool voice. “Walk, or don’t.”

Espinosa seemed incredulous and the venomous looks on Charlotte and Gail’s faces were well equipped to deal with him. Noah watched as Espinosa ignored them and walked over to Jules. He moved towards her as if they were friends when clearly they both knew otherwise.

“It’s not that simple, you corroborate several pieces of evidence and you’re the only one who was willing to speak to the FBI when-” He began, his voice was sharp and bleeding desperation.

Jules made a noise of indignation, cutting him off, Noah shot his daughter a small smile but he wasn't sure she saw it. Jules’ eyes were on the attorney, a cold and furious blue.

“With all due respect, Counsellor” she snapped mockingly, “but fighting sex crimes isn’t the responsibility of the victim. Evidence supports itself and if it doesn’t your case was weak with or without me.” Her voice was harsh and solid, unforgiving.

Noah and Charlotte exchanged a look of mutual pride as Jules took a step closer to Espinosa, to the centre of the room. 

“The jury doesn’t have to justify whatever choice they make and neither do I. I’m walking away from this.” She said clearly, her gaze was hard on him, Noah was certain that stronger men them him would’ve backed down.

Jules’ words hung in the air and Noah couldn't help but remember one of the first things he’d been sure to teach his daughters. Something that his father, Jonathan, had sat him down and said to him when Noah had told him he wanted to enlist.

_“Protecting yourself means you walk away. But when it’s for somebody else, for something else, you fight.”_

Noah didn’t have words to describe how proud he was that those words had stuck to him, that they'd stuck to his children. Because if Jules had asked for his advice, he would have told her to walk, to spare herself.

He watched gladly as Espinosa sighed, “I’ll tell the judge.” He said, his voice low.

Jules didn't move as Espinosa headed for the door, making him step around her, she was resolute. Noah hoped that he had given Jules and Gail even just the tiniest sliver of that strength. If he had, Noah was sure he’d done the best he could’ve as a father.

* * *

 

 

Gail watched as Jules’ decision settled over the room, her eyes were on Erin’s cold expression. Every cell in her body screamed out for her to reach across the table and slap her. Gail couldn’t pinpoint why, knowing it could have been a multitude of things. But it was likely Erin’s slappable face and her expression of disdain. Erin was looking at Jules as if she was under a microscope, it was appalling.

“Does this mean we can go home early?” Gail asked, hoping to end the disconcerting silence.

The sound of her mother’s manicure against the screen of her cell phone answered Gail’s question. She was glad, not just for Jules but for the paper that she had to write.

“Are you sure you want to?” Erin pressed, her dark eyes were on Jules “It would make sense if you wanted to-”

“Nope.” Jules said, popping to ‘p’. “I’m good to leave.”

Gail studied her sister and relief was written all over her. It was quiet and unsure and Gail was certain it had nothing to do with the trial. Jules wanted to go home to something and it irked Gail that she didn’t know what. She could only hope that one day Jules would speak to her again, easily and freely the way she used to.

Her heart sank as Erin dropped her purse on the floor with a hard ‘clunk’ and Jules jumped.

Gail sighed. There was no going back and she knew it. Jules would never be that kid again.

* * *

 

Jules stared at him, anger burned in her chest. She didn’t want to be afraid, Jules was almost sure that she didn’t have any energy left for fear.

“I’m asleep.” She said coldly. “You’re not real and this is a dream.” She had to believe that. Jules had to believe that there were some things that weren’t real, that couldn’t happen. This thing, whatever it was, could invade her head and violate her mind, but it couldn’t hurt her. She was on a plane. She was far away.

The not Stiles smiled at her, hollow and infuriatingly smug. “Is it?”

Jules narrowed her eyes, seething, “Yes you asshole! It is!” She shouted. “Now tell me what you want and what you are because I’m sick of this bullshit!”

He kept pacing in front to her, his footsteps echoing around her. She hated it. She was exhausted and furious and she hadn’t decided how guilty she felt about leaving New York and there was little she wouldn’t do to shut him up. Jules was at the end of her rope and she wanted to hang him with it.

“Convincing.” He said sharply, looking at her with an enraging level of disinterest.

Jules had spent too long being looked at like that. She had spent too long being looked at like she didn’t matter, like she wasn’t worth anything. There was no worse feeling. Violently, Jules shot to her feet and threw herself at him. He caught her shoulders and pushed her back, uncaring. Jules did it again. This time he wrenched her around, snaking his arm around her neck. She was disgustingly close to him.

_I didn’t think this through._

“You really don’t know how to listen do you?” His lips brushed her ear.

Jules stomped on his foot and rammed her elbow into his ribs. He seemed unbothered as he shoved her away. She wanted to scream that she did. She did listen. She listened to everything that he said but that it didn’t matter to her. But Jules knew he would revel in it, he would love to hear her try and bring him down. He was arrogant and cold and vile Jules swore that when she met him she would do something. She didn't know what, but it wouldn’t be pretty.

“What are you?” She spat, trying to shake off the feeling of being that close to somebody without wanting to be.

_This isn’t real. This isn’t real._

“What are we?” He asked in reply, grinning savagely.

Jules scowled, her blood boiled. “You wanna do this is second person? Fine.” She snapped. “We are tired and angry and confused and will fight you because this is a dream and we can do whatever we want.” She kicked the nematon, he just watched her.

“No.” He said in a cool voice. “We are Stiles.”

Jules stared blankly at him, not sure that statement made any sense even if she was together enough to understand it. Her eyes burned, she was desperate for sleep uninterrupted by a corrupted version of someone that she cared about. But he wouldn’t stop showing up. She wouldn’t stop waking up in the white room.

“What the fuck?” She asked, her voice was hollow.

He took a step closer to her and for a second he looked entirely too much like the boy she knew. He grabbed Jules by the neck and pulled her towards him, his hand was a vice around her throat.

_This is a dream. This is a dream. He can’t hurt me._

“You’re his tether.” He said, furious. “You’re the only thing left that can really make me weak.” He lifted her up, his face not even an inch from her’s. “He tied you to me, he pulled you in.” His voice sounded slurred to her, but bitter. “I wish I could leave you alone.”

Jules clawed and kicked out at him, desperately trying to alleviate his grasp on her neck. She wouldn’t let him do this. She wouldn't let him do this. This wouldn’t be how she dies. He said something else but Jules didn’t hear it. She choked as the world faded to black.

 

* * *

 

Gail jumped as Jules gasped awake, her knuckles turned white by her grip on the armrest. Gail wondered when, if ever, Jules would stop waking up in a cold sweat. She watched as Jules eased herself back into her seat, her jaw set with rage.

_She’ll be angry forever._

Gail’s eyes flicked to Erin, who was peacefully asleep to her left. Gail wondered if she knew what it was like for her patients. She wondered what made her qualified to tell Jules how to heal from something she had never been through. She turned back to her tiny television screen, letting her anger simmer and fade as the lights of Los Angeles glimmered in the distance. Gail knew that Jules was watching them grow closer and she wanted to ask how she felt about that. Gail knew what she was going home to. She had certainty and stability and never went without a plan. She looked sadly to her younger sister, glad when she didn’t notice. She wondered if Jules knew what she would do now, if she had ever considered a life she wanted to live. Gail tried to force her thinking elsewhere. Jules was still young, and she still had time.

 

* * *

 

Jules watched the trees fly by and she could feel Beacon Hills crawling closer with every mile. She did her best to ignore Erin’s occasional glances and the suffocating silence in the car. It was only when they missed the first exit into town that Jules thought this was strange.

“I’m going home.” Jules said plainly. “I’m not staying at your office.”

Erin didn’t say anything, she just sighed and tightened her grip on the wheel, a dark look in her darker eyes. The green light from the dashboard was all that illuminated the car, casting them in an eerie glow. Jules tried to stop fear from crawling up and into her throat.

“It’s disappointing.” Erin finally said, drumming her fingers on the wheel. “That after everything you’ve survived you gave up.” Her eyes flicked to Jules, furious and violent. “Do you know what some people would give for a chance to tell their story?”

Jules felt guilt swelling in her chest and tears pricked her eyes. “I didn’t owe them anything.”

Erin didn’t look like she was listening, she was just shaking her head. “I thought you were stronger than that. I really did.” She muttered. “I even tried to test your limits.” She said more clearly as she turned off of the highway.

Jules’ stomach churned, “What?” She asked, her voice was feeble and tried.

Erin looked at her, eyebrows raised. “I guess it wasn’t enough for you to care was it? The emails and the threats? Didn’t burden you at all?” She asked incredulously.

Jules was sure she was going to vomit. It was Erin. Erin had put illegal drugs in her locker and taunted her with the past she was supposed to help Jules move past. She couldn’t think past her shock, past her fear. The car accelerated, jolting Jules out of the noise in her head.

“Why?” She asked. It was the only coherent thing in her head.

_Why? Why the fuck? Why?_

Erin rolled her eyes, “Your recovery was exceptional. Your resilience was fascinating, unlike anyone else I’ve worked with.” She said, like it was supposed to make a shred of sense.

Jules furrowed her brow, “No it wasn’t.” She said harshly, staring at her locked door.

Her heart was in her throat as Erin sped down Beacon Hills’ back roads. She was headed for her house, her practice. Jules knew that, but she just didn’t know what to think.

Erin shook her head, furious. “I’ve watched people destroy themselves because of rape. And you didn’t, I just wanted to know how you did it. I have a right to know!”

Jules reeled back, her back pressed against the car door, the seat belt rubbed against her throat. She remembered the security camera footage Erin had sent her, she remembered the survivors group in Los Angeles Erin had asked her to speak it, and she remembered that Erin was from L.A and that she had had an older sister.

_Had. Past tense._

“Your sister.” Jules said, her voice was shallow with panic. “You lost your sister so you’ve decided to take it out on me is that it? You’re pissed that she’s dead? That she didn’t deal the way that you wanted her to?” She snapped.

Erin scowled, “She had so much potential and she threw it away, just like you did with this trial.”

Jules was enraged, her blood boiled and bubbled with hate. “Cry me a fucking river you sociopath.” Her voice was cold and void of emotion as they careened down Erin’s poorly paced road. “Rape and the fallout is about the victim, not their asshole sibling who thinks that they dealt with it the wrong way. People heal and they do it slowly and sometimes they just can't!” Jules shouted, furious.

Erin brought the car to a screeching halt at the end of her driveway, gravel sprayed. Jules unclipped her seatbelt. “That is not what happened. That is not what happens with any of you!” Erin shouted.

Jules drove her fist into Erin’s stomach and pulled at her door handle, yanking it twice before it popped open and Jules scrambled outside. Erin followed, sprinting around the front of the car and grabbing Jules’ arm, forcing her back. Erin shoved her against the hood. Pain bloomed in Jules’ back as the air was forced from her lungs.

“You gave up.” Erin spat. “Every girl I’ve worked with does it!” She was furious and terrifying. She reminded Jules of Julia.

Jules slammed her foot into Erin’s knee and pushed herself off the hood but Erin looped her arm around her neck.

“I need you to listen to me.” She said into her ear.

_“You really don’t know how to listen to do you?” His lips brushed her ear._

Jules stomped on Erin’s foot and rammed her elbow into her ribs, she heard a sickening crack. She didn’t waste a second before taking off running. She hated coincidence and she hated things that she wished were coincidence even more.

Jules bounded up Erin’s steps and made for the door, shocked when it swung open. She slammed it behind her, fear and panic sharpened her senses and electrified her blood as she turned the lock. The floor creaked above her, she was not alone.

 


	29. De-Void

**Chapter Twenty Nine - De-Void**

* * *

 

 

Jules stood with her back to the locked door, to the driveway, to Erin. She listened intently as the floor creaked above her, as someone moved closer and closer to the stairs. They moved slowly and purposely, with no care if they made a sound. All Jules could hear were the creaks and the sound of her heart, wild and strong and terrified. A shadow flickered over the top of the stairs, a second before they took the first step down. Jules was frozen in place as he came down the stairs, a monster wearing Stiles’ skin. He would kill her. She could feel it. The fact of it pricked its way through her veins and weighted her down.

_I am going to die._

Jules’ gaze was hard on him as he reached the floor, colder and more horrifying than he’d been in the white light of her dreams. Now he was cast in the grey of a Beacon Hills winter and Jules could still feel Erin’s arm around her neck, she could still hear the crack of Erin’s bone.

_Don’t speak first. Don’t give him the satisfaction._

She continued to stare at him, silent and unforgiving. Jules wondered if she should have seen this coming. It dawned on her that she didn’t survive so much and come so far to die like a normal person. No, she should have known it would have come to something like this. Jules was going to fight for and lose her life in a cold house in a colder night surrounded by people who didn’t care. She raised her chin and stepped forward, off of the door, wondering how badly she could hurt him with just her two hands and no self-control.

“She’s taking a while to get back up.” He said. His voice was steady and cool.

Jules didn’t dare look away from him. She was going to look death in the face like she always did.

“Nothing?” He said, quirking a brow. “No swearing, no wit, no threats?”

Jules mimicked the way he tilted his head and ignored the pain that burned all over her body.

“You’re going to kill me.” She said with steady voice and steadier hands. “But I’m going to make it hell for you.” She said darkly, making him a promise that Jules would make damn sure she’d keep.

A smirk slid across his face, “If I were you I’d be thinking a lot more about the woman drowning outside.”

Jules’ stomach churned, she hoped he couldn’t tell. “Drowning doesn't seem like your style.” She snapped.

“No.” He spoke easily. “But it’s what happens with someone drives their elbow so hard into your chest that they force bone into your lungs.”

Jules felt her eyes burn and she wanted so badly to turn around. She believed him. Erin should have been screaming or running up to her house or both. But she wasn’t. The woods around them were silent, and so was Erin. She didn’t know what she was supposed to think.

He leaned and looked past her, letting out a soft whistle. “That’s unfortunate.”

Jules lunged for the landline telephone that sat in Erin’s living room, but he was faster. He caught her around the waist and threw Jules back into a wall, knocking down one of Erin’s paintings. It fell to the floor with a shatter.

“Like you actually care.” He said, rolling his eyes.

Jules felt her rage flickering in her chest, dangerous and hot. She was resigned to spending the last moments of her life angry. She was almost always angry.

“Of course I care.” Jules snapped. “I’m human.”

He was incredulous, “I’ve been in your head. I know what you’ve seen.” He reached forward, grabbing her violently by the collar of her jacket. “I know that you don’t believe that means anything.”

Jules furiously drove her foot into his knee and her fist into his stomach. He shoved her back, regarding her with a genuine and sickening interest.

“You can live with yourself.” He said, he almost sounded impressed. “You can justify the things that you do.” He grabbed her again, pushing her back into the wall. His body was hardly an inch from hers. Jules’ was in enough pain that it was almost like she felt nothing at all. He touched her jaw, tracing it absentmindedly. She would have given a lot to break that hand.

“I should have picked you.” He said, his eyes not leaving hers.

Jules wondered if it was below her to spit on him. Instead she rammed her pained elbow into his chest and kicked him again. She drove her fist towards his smug face but he caught her arm and twisted it behind her. Her stomach against the wall, his chest against her back, one of his legs between hers. Jules wondered how hard she would have to punch him in the nose to drive fragment bone into his brain.

_That’s what Stiles would want isn’t it? He wouldn’t want to live like this._

“No, you shouldn’t have.” She growled and stomped on his foot, using her free hand to shove them off the wall as he fought to stay balanced. She turned around and raked her nails across his face. Her fear was replaced by something else, something rawer than anger. “You wouldn’t be able to hurt me nearly as much as you hurt Stiles.”

He grabbed Jules and forced her to the floor, crouching above her with his hand idly around her throat. He wasn’t even pressing down; it was just there at as threat, a reminder of what he did in her dream, of what he would do.

“Because you're used to it?” He asked, “The total loss of control?”

Jules brought her leg up and kicked him in the chest, sending him back and off balance. She scrambled behind him, wrapping one arm around his neck and using the other hand to push his head down into the lock.

“What? Like this?” She hissed, trying to ignore the feeling of his heartbeat on her skin.

Jules had her knee pressing into his spine, if he could feel pain she knew that would hurt.

“You can’t kill me.” He said, his voice strained by her arm.

Jules didn’t care what he said, or what she was doing, or how she felt about it. She knew what Stiles was feeling; she knew that some things were worse than death.

“I can try asshole.” She seethed, wondering what her voice felt like to him. If he felt as disgusted as she did when his voice was right next to her ear. She wondered if he was scared. And she hated herself for it, but she also wished she had a weapon.

He grabbed her arm and yanked it down. Pain tore through her shoulder as he flipped her over, slamming her down on the cold wooden floor. He put a knee on her chest and brushed her hair from her bruised and tired face.

“You are good at hurting the people you love.” He said absentmindedly, rubbing his neck. “Stiles doesn’t care. He likes you enough to forget he’s in love with the banshee.”

Jules fought against his weight on her chest. He felt like everything terrible thing that had ever happened to her. He felt like every violation, every heartbreak, and every terrible thing she’d ever said or done.

“If you're going to kill then do it you son of a bitch!” She raged, still trying to fight him off of her, her caught her wrists in his hands, pinning them to the floor above her head.

He grabbed her one of her hands, “I don’t want to kill you.” He said, intertwining their fingers.  “You have a lot of pain and you have this thing about not wanting anybody to ever feel what you've felt.” He leaned down, his nose just brushing hers. Jules wanted to break it.

Jules had been in this position before, pinned down with her hand held as if that made it any better. She couldn’t move. She was just thankful that he’d pinned her down with his knee on her torso, instead of trying something else.

“Get fucked.” She said spitefully, watching as something black crept up his veins, taking her energy with it. Everything hurt.

“He’ll always love her.” He whispered. “Even if he loves you, belongs to you, you’ll never have all of him.”

Jules choked on what she wanted to say, but her body was numb and her vision was fraying at the edges.

“I don’t care.” She said with the little air she had left in her lungs. “I don’t need all of a person.” She stared up at him, her eyes were furious and unrelenting and open. She would die with her eyes open, and Jules wasn’t going to let him take that from her. “That’s not love.” She choked out.

He dropped her hand and seized her by the neck. “I hope this doesn’t kill you.” He muttered as he lifted her up slightly. Jules felt her hair catch in the floorboards.

He slammed her back down and Jules saw nothing but black.

 

* * *

 

Jules had never been in Erin’s basement. It was damp, dark and it smelled like fish. She groaned, pushing herself up into a sitting position, ignoring the stabbing pains in her skull. She brought her hand to the back of her head, it came away sticky with blood.

“Stellar.” Jules muttered.

It took a moment for reality to come speeding back to her, for her to remember what had happened. Erin was probably dead, and that was her fault. Jules couldn’t think beyond that, beyond the hollow pit in her stomach and the fact that she didn’t feel guilty. Survival was paramount. Survival, meant sacrifice.

_Self defense. Self defense. Self defense._

Jules grabbed for the rails of the stairs, hoisting herself into a crouch. The room spun. Jules wretched, unable to empty an empty stomach.

_Concussed. Concussed. Fantastic._

Jules stood up anyway, not thinking about what else could be lurking with her in the dark. She was past caring about it. Jules wasn’t even completely sure she was alive, maybe the afterlife was just absolute shit. Jules scrambled up the stairs, resorting to crawling to make sure that she didn’t fall. She pushed herself to her feet at the stop, feeling on the wall for a light switch. She found one and let out a sigh of relief.

_Something went my way._

She wondered if anyone was looking for her. Probably not, she hadn’t told anyone she was coming back early. She had expected things to go this wrong. She expected things to go the normal and appropriate amount of awry. The kind of disasters she could handle on her own.

_Erin._

Jules felt sick again as she tried the door, unsurprised to find it locked. She tried again, yanking it back and forth as far as it would go. But the lock wouldn't give. She pounded on it, screaming in frustration. The sound echoed in her head and her eyes burned.

_This isn’t fair and frankly, absurd._

Jules turned and slid down the door to sit on the top step. Her head in her hands. She let herself cry, it’s not like there was anyone around to hear her. Jules’ heart pounded in her chest and Jules didn’t care to calm down.

“This isn’t fair!” She screamed. Her voice was raw.

_How did this happen? How did this happen? How did this happen?_

Jules was sick of that question, but she would never stop asking it. Most people almost never find themselves concussed, screaming and crying alone is a basement after almost every aspect of their life has collapsed in on itself somehow. Jules wouldn’t let herself think this was normal. Just as she had spent three years reminding herself over and over again that she was a person, that what was happening to her was wrong.

_And this is pretty fucked also._

A hockey stick in the corner caught her eye; she glanced below it, delighted to see a baseball bat. Slowly, Jules made her way back down the stairs. Her pained had dulled, as had the nausea.

_If I’m lucky, I’m not bleeding in the brain._

Jules sighed. That was her luck. She picked up the bat and swung it around, the metal cool in her hands. Jules turned back around and headed cautiously up the stairs. Her footsteps her heavy, her heart pounded. She reached the top, the light flickering meekly above her head, casting her in an eerie golden glow. She swung the bat into the door, thrilled by the sound of splintered wood.

_I am sick of fighting._

She hit it again, harder than before, angrier than before.

_I want this over._

She struck again, tearing a hole in the wood. She kicked in one of the panels, widening the gap enough for her to step through. Jules slammed the bat into the wood once more, for her own satisfaction.

_Fuck this door._

She bent down and stepped through, ignoring the scrape of the sides. Pain was irrelevant; all that mattered was that Jules wasn't dead. So maybe, somehow, she wasn’t meant to die. Jules tightened her grip on the bat as she stood in the silent house; there wasn’t a creak or a shadow to suggest she wasn’t alone. But Jules’ guard wasn’t going down, not until her safety, her survival, was guaranteed. She stepped into the kitchen, over the place where her hair was caught in the floorboards and a shattered painting lay on the floor. Jules’ pushed away the pain in her stomach and opted for chugging a water bottle, avoiding anything without a seal. She didn’t trust this house. She never should have. Her eyes flicked to the living room and Jules remembered trying to open up, trying to trust again. Panic seized her chest and she dove for the window, frantically searching the driveway for Erin. But she was gone, as was her car. Jules wanted to think that she got up and drove herself to the hospital and was lying her way out of questions. But she believed that she was dead because he had said she was. People who wanted chaos would always tell the truth.

_I’m a killer._

Jules stepped away from the window. She didn’t know what to think. What was she supposed to do? Tell someone? The problem was gone. Her breath caught in her throat as she made for the back door of the house. She couldn’t look at the driveway; she couldn’t look at what she’d done.

_It was self defense._

Jules sprinted through the back door, tripping off of the porch. She landed hard on the ground, staring at the sky. She didn’t want to cry. She was so sick of it. She was sick of pain and anger and bitter unfairness. Jules was almost tempted not to get up. How long could she lay there until someone found her? Until she got so upset with herself that she crawled to her feet out of spite.

_I don’t want to do things out of spite._

Jules’ eyes burned with the thought. She didn’t want to keep surviving. She had a future now, and she wanted it. She rolled over, spitting out the taste of dirt as she got to her feet. All she had was a dirty jacket and a baseball bat. It was enough. She'd make sure it was enough. With a sigh she put one hand on her hip and looked out at the woods behind Erin’s home. She knew them well. She knew which trails were trails and which ones were lures to other, stranger things. As a child Jules had never considered the possibilities of what lurked behind the trees. But she was interested now. Jules strode towards the forest, she would go home, she would regroup and then she would find out what was going on. It was all simple. Stay alert, stay alive. She walked with the bat on her shoulder.

“Stay alive.” She whispered, happy to believe there was nothing else around to listen.

* * *

 

Jules had expected her home to look different. Everything was supposed to have been different after the trial. She was supposed to feel free and lighter and like she did before it happened. That had been her secret and naive expectation. Maybe, despite all odds, despite what she knew and what she believed, maybe there was a way to go back to the girl she was before.

Jules twisted the rusted key that sat under a cracked pot into its rusted lock. That was all that was different. Her home had aged; her family and friends had aged. The world had spun on. Jules stepped into her home. It was quiet and dark like she’d hoped. She pulled her dead phone from her pocket, grateful that throughout everything it hadn’t cracked.

_Small miracles. Silver linings. That shit._

Jules climbed her staircase; it creaked softly under her feet, reminding her that she’d grown to. The stairs hadn’t made a sound the last time she’d left her home before New York, before Eichen House. But now she was closer to seventeen then thirteen and there were family photos on the wall that didn’t have her in it. Jules stopped, braced on the railing as she looked at her sister’s high school graduation. Gail and Charlotte looked so much alike. Jules guessed that she looked a lot like them to, but that wasn’t the kind of thing she saw. Jules had spent about three years avoiding mirrors, she hadn’t watched herself age.

She tore her eyes away from the photo and finished the trip to her room. She didn’t go in. Instead Jules stepped into her parents’ bedroom. Noah's neatness paired with Charlotte’s organized chaos. Their closet door was open where his shoes were lined up against the wall. Two pairs for each season. Whereas hers were mismatched, mingled in a corner. It was no wonder Charlotte could almost never get dressed in time. Jules let a small smile take shape on her face, before it faded as she reached for their phone. She dialed the number she knew my heart. She held to her ear, half hoping there was no answer. That for even a few seconds longer Jules could just stand in her home, alone and unafraid. But Jules didn’t get her wish.

“Hey Natalie, is Lydia home?”

 

* * *

 

Lydia couldn’t remember the last time anyone had called on the landline. But it didn’t make sense that it was Jules on the other end of the call, considering for her to use her landline she’d have to be in her house. This meant she wasn’t in New York.

“You are supposed to be on the other side of the country.” Lydia pointed out, forcing herself not to come up with horrifying reasons Jules was home early.

“Not the topic of the hour.” Jules said, her voice was stiff and Lydia's heart leapt into her throat. “What the hell is going on?”

Lydia sighed, collapsing onto her bed. “You’re going to need to be more specific.”

“I don’t know how much more specific I can get. The past week every time I’ve gone to sleep an arrogant asshole masking as Stiles has been in my head. I have to come home early and the asshole tries to kill me and I don’t even know what to call him.” Jules spoke quickly and flatly.

Lydia tried not to think about Stiles trying to kill Jules, about what that might do to her, to them. She tried not think about Jules coming anywhere close to death. Lydia couldn't keep doing that.

“We call him a Nogitsune.” She said first. “It’s an evil Japanese fox spirit.”

For a moment there was silence from Jules and Lydia could only assume she was trying to process the absurdity of that statement. Lydia had never thought the words “evil Japanese fox spirit” would ever come out of her mouth.

“So this is some exorcist crap?” Jules muttered.

“Yes.” Lydia said reluctantly, forcing herself not to imagine what Stiles must feel. She hoped he didn’t, she hoped that for him it just felt unreal.

“Is there a plan?” Jules’ voice was tentative, like she already knew the answer. There was no way to plan for something like this.

Lydia pinched the bridge of her nose as she thought about where the others were headed, about where they wouldn’t let her go. “We think he’s going after Derek. Everyone’s headed to the loft.”

“So then what?” She asked.

Lydia didn’t know what to say. She couldn't tell Jules that she wished she’d stayed in New York longer. She couldn’t say that each of them were at a loss. Lydia couldn't tell Jules that she was pretty sure nobody had any hope left.

“We keep trying.” She said finally, knowing it wasn’t enough.

Jules clucked her tongue. “Alright.” She sounded satisfied with that answer.

Lydia sat up in surprise, “What.” She deadpanned.

“What else can you do? We’ll keep trying. I’m going to bed.” Jules stated and Lydia had so many questions but her eyes fell on the sun dipping below the horizon. She hated the sunset now. She hated the night.

“Okay.” She said, her voice was almost a whisper. And then Jules was gone, replaced by a dial tone.

Lydia lay back down, wanting badly to be able to do something more than what she could. She wanted to do something with the voices she heard but she didn’t know how. Lydia was almost human, but not enough that she could ever feel okay about not being able to do enough. There had to be more. She had to be more.

 

* * *

 

Jules stood in her doorway. Her body ached. Her eyes scanned her bedroom. It was wrong. It was wrong. She had walked into it for the very first time after coming home and it was like stepping into the past. Every time she walked in she stepped back. Jules was thirteen again as she traced the green of her walls. She was twelve when she looked at most of the books on the shelf. She was eleven as she touched the blanket that sat, unused, on the edge of her bed. A bed that felt too small for her now. It hadn’t grown with her; the mattress wasn’t as worn as it should be. Jules wondered if she sheets were the same. She paused in front of her vanity, starring herself in the face. Had her eyes always been this blue? Had her hair ever been longer? Jules gripped the back of her chair and felt anger wash over her. This wasn’t her bedroom. It didn’t belong with her scars and her face and her body.

_It isn’t mine._

In a violent motion Jules stepped up onto the chair then up onto the vanity. She clawed at the peeling edge of the wallpaper where it met the ceiling. It was a faded green that belonged to a dead girl. Jules yanked it down, relishing the sound of the tear. Her heart hammered in her chest as she jumped from the vanity and crossed her room. Jules pulled books from the bookcase and tore posters off of the wall. She was promised a renovated room and she was starting now. Her blood boiled and her nails bled when she was finished. The room was mostly as it had been before. But it was messier, almost ruined. Furiously, Jules moved to her desk and shoved the plug into her phone, pacing as she waited for it to turn on. She knew that her mother would call her and try to tell her how the trial had gone that day. Gail would check in and her father would text. She picked up her phone as the screen came alive, Jules dialed the number she’d been imagining since she'd gotten out of Eichen House. The number she’d been waiting to call until her body was her own.

“Hey.” She said, her voice urgent into the phone. “Do you do removals?”

“Yeah.” Said the man, he sounded preoccupied, likely with someone else’s tattoo. “Do you want to book an appointment?”

Jules frowned, taking a pause. She did, but when? When did she have time? Would she even live long enough to get it done? Jules sighed.

“No.” Her voice was deflated. “Just checking.”

Jules set down her phone, letting the glow of the screen fade into the dark of the room. She stood still and silent, her eyes trained out the window. She didn’t have a moment to spare for herself now that she was home. Jules was back into the throws of the supernatural and at the moment she didn’t come first.

_Do I ever?_

Jules trudged into her bathroom, discarding her bloody clothes as she went. She found herself standing in front of her bathroom mirror, bruises bloomed on her skin. She braced herself on her sink, studying her face. Jules remembered what she had looked like the night she’d gotten out of Eichen House. She had still been gaunt and afraid. Now she had gained weight and regrown her spine. Jules was going to survive whatever came next, she made that promise to herself and if she wanted she would make it to God. She would wake up in the morning and they would figure it out. They would save Stiles. They would make it right. Jules had to believe that. She had to believe in something.

 


	30. De-Void II

**Chapter 30 - De-Void II**

 

* * *

 

Jules sat on her front porch, furiously staring at her front lawn. She had decided that when this was over she was going to devote some serious time to calming down. Jules was sick of being angry, it was exhausting. 

 She watched; bat in hand, as Lydia and Aiden pulled into her driveway, disturbing the silence of the street. Few people had ever paid attention to the tragic house at the end of the road, less now that the Hayes family was meant to be out of town dealing with their tragic, broken daughter. Jules knew what they thought. She understood their looks and could almost smell the flowers that would have sat where she was sitting in the weeks after she'd gone missing. Jules knew they would have gone untouched. Noah and Charlotte were too busy flying back and forth across the country, and Gail was too allergic to pollen have set foot outside her front door. Jules could easily reconstruct those weeks. She had imagined them over and over again in real time. She had found solace in knowing her family was grieving for her.

Lydia got out of the car; she looked as tired as Jules felt but a lot more put together. If Jules was certain of anything, it was Lydia’s ability to look better then everyone in the vicinity. Neither girl did anything but exchange a silent look, a wordless acknowledgement of mutual fear.

Jules didn't look at Aiden, peeved that he was taking her place in the passenger seat.

“So where are we going?” Jules asked, standing up on somewhat unsteady legs.

“Malia Tate.” Lydia responded, opening the car door for Jules.

“Why?” Jules asked, not really caring about the answer. All she cared about was feeling like she was making her considerable uselessness useful. She was learning humanity was only so much against monsters. Jules had always wanted to believe in good beating evil, it had kept her going. But she knew better, there was no beating the bad in her life, there was handling it and on occasion having the upper hand. She collapsed into the back seat, letting the bat roll onto the floor. Aiden said something to Lydia, Jules set her eyes on the rear view mirror. Jules knew her father would have called it “watching their six”. She knew it was all she could do.

_I shouldn't have fought him._

She sighed, rolling her eyes at her own regret. Jules had walked away from the trial to protect herself. She had locked herself in that house to protect herself from Erin. She knew she could have tried to run from the nogitsune. She also knew there had been a part of her that hadn't wanted to, that had wanted to know how far it would go, how lost Stiles was. Jules felt her eyes burn. She believed he was gone, but she wasn't going to be the one to tell everyone else. They were allowed to have more hope than that,Jules was glad they did.

 

* * *

 

Lydia rolled her eyes as Aiden sighed again.

“Are you at least going to tell me where we’re going?” He asked.

Lydia’s eyes flicked to Jules, she wasn’t paying attention. Lydia tried not to look at the marks on her neck.

“I need to check on something.” She answered, glad that Jules was staying quiet.

“Who is Malia Tate?” He asked, holding up the piece of paper she’d crumpled into the cup holder.

Lydia corrected his pronunciation of her name as she snatched the paper from his hand. “You don’t need to worry about it.”

“She’s a recent discharge from Eichen House.” Jules interjected, her voice was flat.

Lydia shot her a glare, but Jules wasn’t looking.

“Well, I’m actually worried we’re a totally lost.” Aiden said.

“Same.” Jules added.

Lydia pursed her lips, growing more and more irritated. She had her GPS on, she couldn’t be lost.

“Why do you think that?” She asked, hoping she sounded as condescending as she wanted to.

“Because you just made your fourth right.” Aiden told her. “And four rights make-”

“Circle.” Jules cut him off.

Lydia furrowed her brow, “I did not.” She defended herself, glancing at the GPS. “Did I?”

“Yep.” Jules said, sounding as disinterested as ever.

“It’s a brand-new car.” Lydia tried to explain, not wanting to think about why she didn’t notice that she’d drove in a circle.

_I’m thinking about other things. It’s okay._

“And the GPS was fine before.” She added.

Jules sat up, “What?” She asked, though it didn’t sound too much like a question.

“Maybe the GPS would work better if it was on.” Aiden said to her.

Lydia looked back to Jules’ profound concern and then to the console. It wasn’t on, it wasn't even open. Lydia’s heart shot into her throat as she fidgeted with the buttons, trying to find it. She was certain it was on. She had been hearing the voice. Jules leaned forward into the front.

“Lydia.” She said cautiously.

“You okay?” Aiden asked. Jules scoffed at him.

Lydia felt a familiar rushing feeling wash over her, ill and terrifying. She knew Aiden could hear her heartbeat, she knew it was out of control. 

“I need to stop.” She said, but that was wrong. She didn’t need to stop. She needed to turn. “I need to pull over right now.” Lydia could hear how frantic she sounded as she veered into a parking lot, terrified of what they were going to find.

She swerved through the parking lot, unsure of where she was going or what she was doing. It was a horrifying feeling, not knowing what or why she was doing something. Lydia wanted to have control. Aiden was shouting her name; Jules was silent until Lydia finally brought the car to a halt. Jules swore under her breath as she grabbed her bat and raced out of the car.

“Is this for real?” She shouted.

Lydia knew what she meant, her racing heart slowing with every step towards the familiar body. Her head spun.

“No.” Lydia said. Her voice cracked.

_He’s not dead. He can’t be dead._

“He’s not.” Aiden answered before she asked, walking slowly towards Stiles.

Lydia looked back to Jules, her friend’s expression was cold but the bat hung limply in her hand at her side. Lydia didn’t know what she was thinking, she didn’t want to know. Aiden nudged him, there was no response.

_He’s not dead. Stiles isn’t dead._

Aiden picked him up like he was nothing, Jules jerked away as Aiden walked past her. Lydia stepped towards her, grabbing her free hand.

“Can you get in the car?” She asked softly as Aiden placed Stiles in the back seat.

Jules answered by climbing in and readying the bat in her hands. Lydia got back into the front seat, sick to her stomach. She looked back to Jules and her unforgiving expression. She wondered how Jules was supposed to move on. How any of them, no matter how it ended, were supposed to move on.

 

* * *

 

There was blood on her hands. Jules hated that. She hated blood. But someone had needed to help get Stiles out of the car and she had been there, sitting next to him staring at his sleeping face. Jules had to remind herself over and over again that it wasn’t him. She had to remember over and over again that this creature would let her live and die on its whims. That wasn’t something she was familiar with.

Jules stumbled into Scott’s house, trailing behind the frantic movements of the others. They wanted to save him, and Jules was sure at this point Stiles wouldn’t want to be saved. He might not even still exist.

“Guys, this is crazy. He needs to be in a hospital.” Melissa said.

Jules watched her, wondering what it would take for her to lose her level head. How could she be so calm?

“Mom.” Scott turned to her. “Remember what happened last time went to the hospital?”

Jules cocked her head and shot Lydia a sharp look of confusion, but Lydia’s eyes were on Stiles.

_She hasn’t given up on him._

The thought didn’t sit easily in her stomach.

“It doesn’t look like he’s bleeding.” Deaton said.

“Anymore.” Jules muttered, shoving her hands into the pockets of her jacket.

“I think he might even be healing.” Deaton continued, Jules was irritated he sounded surprised. The one person who might have known what was going on did not. That was incredibly disappointing. 

“You mean healing like we heal?” Aiden clarified.

“As opposed to…?” Jules asked, eyebrows raised. Aiden ignored her remark.

“That’s good right?” Scott asked him. Jules tried to ignore the pang in her chest. Stiles was his best friend, his brother, and Scott was watching him die.

For a long moment Deaton was silent, earning the rapt attention of the room.

“For him, yes.” He said finally. “Us?” He turned around, “I’m not so sure.”

Jules scowled as the room fell into tense silence. Unfortunately, Aiden was the one to break it.

“Well, if we’re not going to kill him why aren’t we at least tying him down with really big chains?” He asked.

Jules looked around, gesturing overdramatically as she did. “What chains?” She lifted a couch cushion, “I don’t see…” Lydia smacked Jules’ arm.

“Don’t.” She hissed.

“Don’t.” Jules mocked, growing more agitated with every passing second.

“I might have something more effective.” Deaton said, lifting up his briefcase and procuring a vile.

Jules and Lydia turned their attention back to them as Scott and Aiden pulled open his mouth. Jules’ heart hammered as Deaton poured some of whatever it was down his throat.

_That sucks._

She jumped as the nogitsune lurched awake, seizing Aiden and Scott. He wrapped his hand around Aiden’s throat, laughing as he did. Lydia grabbed Jules’ hand. Her grip was painful. Within seconds the nogistune’s hand was shaking, he looked oddly impressed.

“Kanima venom.” He observed. “Nice touch.”

Aiden growled. Jules kept her eyes on the floor. Her stomach was in knots.

“You know they say that twins get a feeling when the other one’s in pain?” He said lightly. “You didn’t lose that talent too, did you?” He asked, annoyingly rhetorical. “Oh, I hope not.” The nogitsune continued. “You’re gonna need it.”

Jules glanced up at Scott as he and Aiden exchanged looks of worry. She could almost choke on their silence.

“Okay.” He resigned. “I’ll give a little hint. He’s at the school.”

Jules stared furiously at her shoelaces. She knew that the nogitsune didn’t care, that he relished pain, but he didn’t need to be so goddamn blasé about it.

“Go.” Scott said and Aiden tore out of the room.

The nogitsune laughed as he watched him leaved. Jules thanked god that none of her family was in Beacon Hills at the moment.

“I hope he gets there in time.” He said, disgustingly amused. “I like the twins. Short tempers. Homicidal compulsions. They're a lot more fun then you bakemono trying to save the world every day.” He said, staring violently at Scott. Jules could feel him look to her, his gaze was heavy. Reluctantly, she raised her eyes to meet his; thankful he couldn’t hear the petrified beat of her heart. “Watch out for that one Scott.” He said slowly. “She’ll do whatever it takes.”

Jules turned away as Melissa asked Deaton to keep him quiet. She couldn’t take the way he looked at her, at any of them, like they were game pieces. Jules wanted to scream that she was a person, that he could just do whatever he wanted. But she knew better, she knew to hold her tongue and tough it out. Jules shuddered as the nogitsune let out a scream from underneath the tape, rage swelled in her chest. She hated him. She might even hate him more than anyone else she knew.

* * *

 

 

Lydia stood behind Jules, her hands braced on the back of the chair. Her eyes flicked between Deaton and Scott as Scott paced around the room, trying not to look at Stiles.

“How much time do we have?” He asked. But by his tone Lydia could guess that he knew the answer, not enough.

“I wish I knew.” Deaton said softly.

Jules leaned back, resting her head against Lydia. Her eyes were shut.

“But if we don't figure out something soon, we’re gonna need to find a better place to keep him.” Deaton pressed.

_I think that’s stating the obvious._

“I think we’re grossly underestimating the danger here.” Deaton continued. Lydia tried to recall a time where he had given them good news.

Deaton pointed to Stiles, “He might be paralyzed, but it still feels like he’s got us right in the palm of his hand.”

Jules let out a sigh, “Are we surprised?” She sat up, shooting Deaton a disinterested look. “He was screwing with my head when I was across the country. We’re gonna feel uneasy with him eight feet away.” She snapped.

Deaton looked down at her, his brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Scott mirrored his expression. Lydia knew she should have been more concerned, but she wasn’t exactly surprised. Jules blew a loose strand of hair out of her face.

“Every time I went to sleep there he was, standing on the nematon making me miserable.” She sounded more exasperated than afraid. “I was okay last night though.” Jules added, almost as an afterthought.

“Well he was busy last night.” Lydia muttered, thinking of the events at Derek’s loft. She looked to Deaton’s contemplative face, and if Jules noticed his concern she didn’t care much for it.

Lydia’s eyes flicked down to her stiff friend, fighting off her anger at Jules’ apathy. Lydia knew it was a facade, but that didn’t make it any easier. None of them could afford to lose hope, for Stiles’ sake, they had to hang on.

“What about the scroll?” Scott asked. “There’s a cure, we just need to find it.”

Lydia sighed, furious that all their hope, all their chances, were staked on an ancient Japanese scroll. She had gotten to the point where she couldn’t consider the absurdity of most of what happened in her life. She was kind of dating a werewolf and one of her closest friends was possessed by a fox spirit. Lydia found it was better not to think too hard about these things.

_Right, the cure in the scroll._

* * *

 

 

“But the scroll said to change his body.” Lydia interjected.

Jules looked up at Lydia, hoping that her all-consuming confusion was clear on her face. She didn’t want to think about what that would mean.

“Ancient Japanese scroll.” Lydia mouthed to her.

“That’s if I translated it correctly.” Deaton said, sounding disconcertingly unsure of himself.

“So Stiles’ life depends on your proficiency in a dead language?” Jules clarified, mostly for herself.

No one said anything to that. To Jules that silence was telling. Deaton turned around, looking intently at Scott.

“We’re looking for a cure in something that might actually be nothing more than a proverb or metaphor.” He pressed.

Jules looked up at Scott and Lydia, wondering if they were seriously considering whatever it was the scroll wanted them to do. All Jules knew for sure was that she didn’t know if she was ready to be a human sacrifice, need be.

“And what if he doesn't want it?” Scott asked Lydia.

Jules’ heart sank; she hated it when people sounded desperate. Desperate people did crazy things.

“He’s never asked to be a werewolf.” Scott told her.

Jules put her head in her hands.

_Change his body._

“What if it saves his life?” Lydia rebutted.

Jules sighed and pushed out her chair, standing up to face them. She didn’t want to say it, but someone had to.

“What if it kills him?” Deaton said, interrupting Jules before she could begin.

“I’ve never done this before.” Scott said to Lydia.

Jules looked between their mutual looks of desperation; she pinched the bridge of her nose.

_At this point they’ll consider anything._

“I mean what if I bite him and accidentally hit an artery or something?” Scott asked.

Jules looked up at him, eyes narrowed. “Scott, that’s not the question.”

“Then what is the question?” Lydia said, verging on snapping at Jules. “Because we need to do something. We need to save him.” She said, her voice was strong. Jules envied that.

“What if there’s nothing left to save?” Jules asked them, allowing her voice to be sharp and cold. She needed to be listened to. They needed to hear this.

Lydia and Scott gave her identical looks of confusion and disbelief. Scott opened his mouth to say something back but Jules wasn’t finished.

“It’s worth considering that he might not want to come back from this.” She swallowed down her fear, “Stiles might not even be in there anymore.” Jules said candidly, looking away from Lydia’s calmly furious face. “And if he is he might just want it to end, by whatever-”

“It takes?” Scott finished, sounding pricklier than what suited him.

Jules scowled, “I was going to say 'by whatever means necessary’ but that works to.” She said harshly.

“We have to believe-” Scott began but Jules cut him off.

She took a heavy breath and thought of Sara, of her old life. She remembered that complete loss of agency, of control. “I know.” Jules said, raising her eyes to meet Scott's. “I know you have hope. I know you want to believe that there is a good ending to this.” Jules put her hand on his arm and hoped that he was as understanding as she thought he was. “But Scott I’ve been where he is. I’ve seen what can happen. Not everyone wants to keep fighting, not everyone can. We have to consider everything.”

“I don’t understand.” Lydia said sourly, “Because it sounds like you're saying we should give up just because you have.”

Anger bloomed in her chest as Jules whipped around to face Lydia, “I’m saying we need to think about what Stiles would want. And he wouldn’t want anyone else getting hurt.” She snapped. “So I’m saying that we need to explore every option even if they monumentally suck.”

“We’re not killing him.” Scott said, almost petulantly.

Jules turned back towards him, taking a step closer. “And if we can’t save him?”

She had never seen Scott so close to rage. Jules knew she should stop, she knew she wasn’t getting anywhere. But she wanted to push she wanted to see what it took to make Scott angry, she wanted to know his limits.

“The venom is not going to last long.” Deaton’s voice cut through the room.

Jules stepped back, her heart was pounding.

_That’s not you. You don’t want to make things worse._

Her head spun.

“Something needs to be done sooner than later.” Deaton pressed, clearly trying to end the debate. Because that, was all any of them were going to agree on.

Scott pulled out his phone to try once again to get through to Derek. Jules wondered at what point they should start worrying about them.

“Maybe we should call someone else.” Lydia offered with a certain reluctance that stopped Jules from wanting to know what she had in mind.

She gave Scott a pointed look and Jules watched his face fall. Jules sighed.

“It’s Peter, isn’t it?”

Lydia nodded, Jules swore.

 

* * *

 

Jules watched as Peter paced around the back of the couch, she wished he would stop being so dramatic and say something. Now wasn’t the time for theatrics.

“He doesn’t look like he’d survive a slap across the face, much less the bite of a werewolf.” Peter said to them, infuriatingly apathetic.

On occasion, Jules would wonder if he was really a sociopath, actually being near him reminded her that he definitely was. He had to be in order to meet eyes with the creature on the sofa and not flinch.

_One in the same._

“You don’t think it would work?” Scott confirmed what Jules was sure he must have known.

“This is more a war of the mind then the body.” Peter told them.

Scott glanced at Jules, he was strangely unreadable. She wanted to scream at him that she didn’t think killing him was a good idea, that she didn’t want to do it. But Jules choked down her words. Scott didn’t have to trust her, and Jules didn’t want to let that bother her.

“There are better methods to winning this battle.” Peter said as he stood back up.

“What kind of methods?” Deaton asked, evidently surprised that there was something he hadn’t thought of.

_Surprise, surprise, herbs can’t solve everything._

Peter grabbed Scott’s arm and brought it down, revealing his claws. Jules didn’t know what that was supposed to mean but Lydia did, and she wasn’t happy about it. The nogitsune regarded Scott’s hand, curious. He wanted to know what they were going to come up with. Though Jules didn’t think he particularly cared.

“We’re going to get into his head.” Peter said, sounding grossly eager.

Jules nudged Deaton, “The same way he could get into mine?”

Peter turned around, a step too close to her. “No, but that’s interesting.”

Jules folded her arms over her chest, “I doubt it.”

Peter regraded her with the same sickening interest as the nogitsune. The nogitsune caught her eye. She scoffed at him, “What are you looking at?” She spat, stepping away and into the kitchen as Lydia yanked Peter around the corner. Jules didn’t want to know what that could mean.

She eyed Peter as he and Lydia walked back into the room.

“So, do we have a plan?” Deaton asked them, so obviously wary it made Jules nervous.

Peter leaned on the back of the sofa, “Scott is going to try and dig through pale and sickly Evil Stiles’ mind to unearth pale and sickly Real Stiles. Then guide him back from the depths of his own subconscious.” He said it like it was easy. Peter’s eyes flicked to Lydia, then to Jules. “But he’s not gonna do it alone.”

“What do you mean?” Scott asked him.

Jules narrowed her eyes at Peter, “I second that.”

Peter turned slowly to Lydia, who looked wholly unprepared. “Somebody needs to go in with you.”

Jules frowned as the nogitsune glanced at Lydia. “And how do I fit in with that?” She asked, crossing the room and watching as Peter gestured for Lydia to sit down next to, in Peter’s words, Evil Stiles.

Scott walked around the back of the couch, one clawed hand at the nogitsune’s neck, and one at Lydia’s. Jules pointed, “Cause he doesn’t have three hands.”

Peter let out an exasperated sigh and grabbed her arm, yanking her closer. Jules wondered if it was acceptable to kick in his knee.

“This,” Peter waved his hand towards Scott, “connects their minds to his.” He pointed at the nogitsune. “You already have that connection. You just don’t know how to use it.”

Jules scowled, “Oddly enough I’m okay with that.”

Peter patted the space on the couch between Lydia and the nogitsune. Jules shook her head.

“Why do you need me for this?” She asked. “You have them.”

A smirk wormed its way across Peter’s face. “You’re the emotional tether, a terrible excuse for one, but still.”

Jules narrowed her eyes, affronted. “I’m sorry?”

Peter’s eyes flicked to Deaton, who looked away.

“Your entire purpose was to bring him back to his humanity.” Peter stated and looked down at the demon. “And what an excellent job you’ve done.”

Jules stared at the space where she was supposed to sit, her eyes burned and her blood was boiling. Was he right? Jules didn’t want to think so.

_This isn’t your fault. He’s guilt tripping you._

She sat down anyway, as close to Lydia as she could get.

“Thank you.” Peter said bitterly. “Now grab his hand and let's move on.”

Jules glanced fearfully at Stiles’ paralyzed hand and reached out. Pained and unsurprised as the blood in his veins went black as they crawled up his arm. Her body went cold and her vision blurred. Jules’ breath felt choked by fear and pain. Images crawled up from the back of her mind, each of them painful and overwhelming. There was the broken wrist as a child and the first blow to the head in New York. She was thrown onto a bed and then she was sitting on a fire escape, the night air biting into her skin. Jules was sitting in a metal chair, staring at a necktie and hearing nothing but static and her name. No one had said her name in a long time. Then she was in Eichen House, breathing heavily over the echoes, her wrists were raw with rubbing against the restraints. There was noise nearby, she looked over expecting to see the girl she’d shared a room with. What had her name been? Helen? Elena? Instead she saw Scott, and beyond him was Lydia. 

_What? That’s not right._

She strained her eyes to look down at herself. She was wearing jeans and boots and her hair was loose around her shoulders.

_This isn’t right._

Jules let her panic climb. She was awake, or something close to it. And she wasn’t in her memories anymore. She was in Stiles’ head. The world came spinning back to her and her fear lessened, replaced by a bitter rage.

“I am going to kill Peter Hale!” She shouted over the din of the sanitarium.

Lydia sighed, “I won’t be the one to stop you.”

* * *

 

 

Jules stood up on shaking legs, and kicked at the discarded restraints.

“I’m not into this s&m shit.” She muttered, her entire body singing with pain.

“What now?” Scott asked.

Jules braced herself on the table, annoyed that they both seemed to be in much better shape than her.

“I don’t know.” Lydia said. “This is my first time in someone else's head.”

“Really?” Jules asked sardonically. “Just another Tuesday for me.” She stood up, tripping over herself as she crossed the room.

“Just stay behind me.” Scott said, pushing open the door.

Jules watched warily as he stepped through, nearly letting out a scream when the door slammed shut. Lydia slammed on the door, screaming his name. Jules grabbed her shoulders, to pull her back, to calm her down. She spun her around but she wasn’t faced with Lydia. It was a different woman Jules didn’t recognize. She held out a plastic bag and a few quarters.

“Have a nice night.” She said, her accent was clear, born and raised in Brooklyn.

Jules stepped back, her heart pounded. She remembered her now. She was the last person Jules saw before she disappeared, and Jules had never known her name. She looked around, slowly taking in her new surroundings, all too familiar. Eichen house was gone, replaced with the tight aisles of a small bodega. The place where Jules' world ended.

She reeled around face with the smudged glass of the door. She stood there, staring out into the empty street. Jules had dreamt of this before, of a second chance. How would she change this night?

Jules turned back, just enough to see the clerk out of the corner of her eye. The women was watching her with cold intensity.

“You forget something?” She asked sharply. Her nails clicked on the counter.

Jules shook her head, “No, ma’am.” She pushed open the door, stepping out onto the sidewalk.

The streetlight flickered over her head, casting Jules in a sickly yellow light. She shivered, having forgotten how cold it had been. Jules had neglected to put on her coat that night, thinking that she’d be gone only a few minutes. She knew now that those minutes had turned into years. 

_I should have told my sister I loved her._

Jules poised herself on the curb, waiting. She peered down the dark street, knowing that any moment a van was going to barrel towards her. It was a strange feeling, knowing what was about to happen. She looked up. There weren’t many stars, not in New York but there were enough for her.

_Am I supposed to think this is real?_

She looked down from the sky, a small smirk on her face. Jules had spent too long inside her own head, creating her own comforts, her own “what ifs”. She had relieved this night over and over. No one, not even the nogitsune could take it from her. Jules let a grin split open on her face and she stepped out into the empty street, arms outstretched.

“Real convincing!” She shouted. “But there is no version of this, no detail of this night that I don’t remember, that I haven’t thought of!” Jules screamed, letting the illusion swallow her slowly spoken words.

And then it came, the van she knew, and Jules still had a smile on her face as she turned. She sprinted up the street, past familiar but empty houses. She could see her shadow, projected head of her by the headlights. She braced herself for impact, throwing her hands above her head. It never came, so Jules stopped and looked back. But she wasn’t looking at the van, she wasn’t even in Brooklyn. The headlights of a familiar blue jeep illuminated the woods around her, reigniting the fear in her veins. This was unfamiliar, this was terrifying. Slowly, the driver’s side door opened and Stiles stepped out, wearing a puzzled expression.

“Why did you want to come back here?” He asked, sounding like himself.

Jules stepped to the side of the blinding lights, shielding her eyes with her hand. “What?”

It scared her how real this felt.

Stiles leaned on the door of the jeep, “We won’t even find it.” He said, exasperated.

Jules furrowed her brow and gazed around the woods. Wondering what in the hell she could be looking for. She frowned, he was right. What was she doing? What was she looking for?

Jules nodded and began to walk towards the jeep. “Yeah, you’re right. We won’t find it.” She yanked open the passenger side door, looking at Stiles as she did. He was wearing a jacket she had never seen before. It was military, old and unlike anything Stiles wore. Jules froze, one foot braced inside the jeep.

_Find it… find what?_

She looked around, trying to make out anything other than pitch black forest. It felt familiar. She had been there before, down this old road in search of something. It had been dark then too. Clouds rolled overhead, promising a storm. Jules’ gaze darted to Stiles.

_Find you._

She took off running again, he screamed her name, enraged. Jules threw herself into the woods, careening down the nearly nonexistent path she’d run before. It had been the night of the eclipse and Stiles had been with her. She's been running for other people’s lives then too.

_Find it. Find him._

Jules tore through the forest, preparing herself for the final wall of brush that she and him had fought their way through that night. She shut her eyes and turned her head away, outstretching her arms to break her way through. Jules let out a furious cry as she finally shoved through the wall of thickets. She opened her eyes to a white room. The same one from her dreams. Beyond her sat the nematon, occupied by the nogitsune and Stiles. Jules looked to her side to where a stunned Scott and Lydia stood and without word they took off running, hope swelled in her chest with every stride. Their footsteps echoed around them, but went unheard by Stiles. Each of them shouted his name, Lydia was frantic. Jules buried her face in her hands as they stopped, furious with that moment of optimism. Scott and Lydia began sprinting again and reluctantly, Jules followed for a moment.

“Guys.” She said, winded. “Stop. This is not working.”

The three of them braced themselves on their knees with exhaustion. Jules felt weaker and colder than before. She tasted blood in her mouth.

_I am not doing to great am I?_

She thought about her hand intertwined with the nogitsune’s.

_Fuck, I’m probably dying._

“Stiles is part of your pack.” Lydia said, almost as a reminder to them all.

“What?” Scott turned, desperate for anything. “What do you mean?”

“He’s human. But he’s still part of the pack right?” Lydia asked him, clearly sure of her answer.

Scott stood up, Lydia and Jules followed. The pesky feeling of hope pricked her way into her bones again.

“Yeah, of course.” He said.

“So how do wolves signal their location to the rest of the pack?” Jules asked him, catching onto where Lydia was going.

A smile wormed its way onto their faces and Scott shifted. The nogitsune turned.

_Who’s in control now? Not you, that’s who._

“They howl.” Scott answered, before letting out what Jules would describe as more of a deafening roar.

_You don’t sound like a wolf there buddy._

She watched as Stiles looked their way, Jules’ eyes burned and she nudged Lydia. Not wanting to contain her excitement as Stiles scattered pieces of, what looked like Go, around the nematon.

_We won._

* * *

 

 Lydia snapped awake, her head split with pain. She brought her hand to the back of her head as she stood up. Her heart beat like jackhammer against her ribs.

“Did it work?” Scott asked, hopeful and terrified. “Did it work?” He scrambled in front of Stiles.

“What happened?” Lydia asked, her voice was weak. “Why didn’t it work?” She looked for Jules, but she was still on the couch. Melissa was next to her, checking her pulse. She opened her mouth to say her name but Peter grabbed her arm.

“Because it’s not science, Lydia. It’s supernatural.” He snapped into her ear. “I did my part. Now give me the name.” He hissed.

“What name?” Scott asked.

Peter pulled her away. Lydia’s eyes were on Jules. She looked terrible.

“What are you talking about?” Scott called after them.

“Lydia, a deal is a deal, even with me.” Peter said.

Lydia leaned up toward his ear, wishing that she hadn’t made this promise. “Malia.” She said.

Stiles snapped awake, ripping the duct tape from his mouth. He began to pull bandage from his mouth. The entire room fell into silent shock. Lydia was partially glad that Jules was unconscious for this. She had never thought she’d see someone vomit fabric.

_What the hell? What the hell? What…_

Lydia watched, horrified and disgusted as something reached up from the bandages, pulling itself out. No one moved. She looked at Stiles, wondering briefly it was really him. She doubted it.

They reeled back as the thing continued to manifest in front of them. It rose to its feet and stepped towards them, Scott and Peter grabbed it and brought it to the ground. Lydia strained to look past them, but she was yanked from the room, a hand clasped over her mouth. Lydia fought as she was dragged outside, digging her nails onto the nogitsune’s skin.

“You didn’t think I’d be so easy to get rid of? Did you?” He asked, his breath was warm on her neck.

Lydia felt hot tears roll down her face as she tried to squirm her way out of his grasp. He snaked his arm around her neck, and the world went black.


	31. Insatiable

 

**Chapter Thirty One - Insatiable**

* * *

The McCall house had been Stiles' second home for years. It was where he stayed on the nights when his father couldn't make it back, and hid when he was in trouble. He had helped put up most of the posters on Scott's wall and had been responsible for quite a few of the scratches on the furniture. Now Melissa, the closest thing to a mother he had, was struggling to look at him. Not that he blamed her. Stiles didn't trust himself; he didn't expect anyone else to.

"Well…" She said, putting down his hand. "Medically, you seem okay."

Stiles wasn't sure what to think about that, it was low on his list of priorities.

"You're definitely a real person." She said, trying to make light of her words.

Stiles gave her a small nod, not comforted by that statement. "Okay, so I'm real, but am I really me?" He asked, hoping for reassurance. If Melissa was going to say something, she didn't get the chance as Scott walked into the room.

Stiles sat up, unsure if his nerves had ever been so frayed. "Is she here?"

Scott nodded, "Yeah."

"Okay, let's do this." He said, wanting to sound stronger then he felt.

Stiles watched them trade looks of apprehension, and let out a smalls sigh. "Guys, we have to do this."

Stiles knew they knew that. If he wasn't himself they would have to know, and the Oni would do something about it before any of them got the chance. Stiles didn't want to admit he found that comforting. The decision was out of their hands, meaning they couldn't make the choice to keep him, and the nogitsune, alive.

Stiles forced himself to his feet, almost falling to the floor. Scott grabbed him and, Stiles let him help him downstairs. Noshiko was waiting, and behind her was Jules, slumped at the dining room table giving dirty looks to a steaming mug.

"Do you recognize me?" Noshiko asked coldly.

Stiles nodded, trying to catches Jules' eye, though she was preoccupied with choking down whatever Deaton had given her. After he'd woken up Scott and Peter had dragged him upstairs. Stiles didn't know how long it had taken her to come around after that. All he did know was that she been in in the bathroom coughing up blood, uncharacteristically silent. Stiles didn't know what he had done to her, all he knew what that he'd been taking from her for too long.

Kira burst into the room, "Stop." She shouted.

Stiles stepped towards Noshiko, "It's okay. I'm the one who asked her to come." He understood that she wanted to help, but at this point Stiles wanted to know he was in control again, that he was himself.

"You're the one who's going to get stabbed with swords." Kira protested, "Mom, don't do this to him." She pleaded.

"It's already done." Noshiko said. Her eyes focused beyond Stiles.

He turned, knowing what he would face but no less terrified as the Oni materialized. Within seconds all Stiles was suffocated by cold, unable to see anything but a sickly green. The thought that this may be the last thing he ever saw flickered in the back of his mind as she fell hard to the floor. He wrapped an arm around himself to try and stop the shivering as everyone crowded around him.

"It worked." Scott said, guileless and relieved.

Stiles knew he should have had a moment of relief or joy but all he felt was a dull ache.

"I'm actually me?" He confirmed as she pushed himself up off the floor.

"More you then the nogitsune." Noshiko said, as stoic as ever.

"Can the Oni find him?" He asked, adjusting himself to the feeling of grim determination. This needed to end, no matter what happened to him.

"Tomorrow night." She answered. "It's too close to dawn now."

Stiles clenched his jaw, not caring to hide his frustration. That thing was still out there, and worse, it had Lydia.

He looked back up at her, furious, "Can they kill him?"

"It depends on how strong he is." Noshiko said.

"So Lydia is stuck with that thing until tomorrow night?" Jules snapped. Her voice was meek.

"Why would he take her?" Scott asked.

Stiles hated how lost they all had to feel.

"He would only take her for an advantage." She told him.

"You mean her power?" Scott clarified.

"The power of a banshee." Noshiko confirmed.

"Is predicting death." Jules cut in. "He doesn't need to predict death when he's the one killing people."

Stiles looked over at her, trying again to catch her attention. He needed to talk to her, but understandably, it didn't seem like she was going to look in his general direction.

"And what's your point?" Noshiko asked, irritated.

Jules shot her a venomous look and said nothing. Instead she took an aggressive swig of whatever was left in that mug. Noshiko didn't look too impressed and glanced at her daughter before leaving the room. Kira shot Scott an apologetic look before following her out.

Stiles let Scott and Melissa help him to his feet, he fidgeted his hands, hoping to stem off his panic attack for another day.

"I need to see my dad." He said, letting the words fall clumsily out of his mouth.

Scott nodded and Stiles' let his eyes flick to Jules, this time she was looking back. He held her gaze as Scott handed him a jacket, she was unreadable. To his surprise she tried to stand up.

"No." Melissa said pointedly. "You're not going anywhere until you're finished throwing up."

Jules leaned back in the chair, wearing a look of comical offense. "Trying to throw up." She corrected. "I haven't eaten in, like, a stupid amount of time."

Melissa let out an exasperated sigh and yanked open the fridge. Stiles felt Scott nudge his arm. Reluctantly, he looked away. There would be a moment to talk to her, if she would let him. Stiles caught his keys out of the air as Scott tossed them to him. He looked down at his jeep, trying to think of the last time it was him behind the wheel. He climbed in, glad for the familiarity. He was driving his jeep, Scott was next to him and he was worrying about a girl. Some things didn't change.

* * *

Jules stared at her half eaten piece of toast, stupid happy that she'd kept it down.

_Maybe I'm not dying._

Though the bloody napkin clenched in her fist, unwavering cold and the stabbing pain in her head said otherwise. She wished the internet had a little bit more to say about the nogitsune other than "everyone who encounters one is screwed". Jules understood that it fed on pain, which didn't explain the nasty side effects. Deaton had said she was drained and handed her a disgusting bouquet of herbs. That wasn't a good enough explanation, but it was all she was going to get.

Jules tossed her phone back down on the table, letting it slide away from her. Behind her, Melissa was pacing.

"I should take you and Stiles to the hospital." She said.

Jules turned around, ignoring the twinge in her neck as she did. "And tell them what?"

Melissa didn't say anything, and she didn't have to as Scott and Stiles half walked, half stumbled through the front door. Jules pushed herself to her feet, feeling steadier then the last time she'd tried. She looked to Stiles; he was standing on his own. He toyed with his keys, occupying his hands like he always did when he was nervous. Jules raised her eyes to meet his and he jerked his head towards the door, apprehensive in the gesture. Her heart fell. Jules hadn't decided how she felt about him, but it wasn't fear. As confidently as she could, Jules crossed the room, proud that she managed not to collapse in the middle of it. She followed Stiles into the jeep, trying to push the images from the night before out of her head. Jules stood; one foot braced inside the jeep and studied Stiles. He looked almost as terrible as she felt, but he looked like himself.

Jules got into the car, trying to relax into the soft seat. But she couldn't, Jules didn't know if she'd be able to relax ever again. She glanced at him; he was staring at his hands. They were tight on the steering wheel but the keys weren't in the ignition. Jules felt like this only fueled the tense silence, she shifted, turning to face him.

_Do I speak first? What the fuck do I say?_

Her heart was hammering in her throat and that made her furious. Her body was acting like it was afraid. She wasn't.

_I'm not._

There was one thing that scared her and she was hesitant to ask. Jules wondered if it was why he was silent as well. She let out a sigh.

"How much do you remember?" She asked, not allowing herself to slip into a sympathetic tone she knew he'd hate.

Stiles drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, not looking at her. "Everything." He said quietly, his voice was strained.

Jules nodded slowly, wanting to reach out, to comfort him somehow. But if she were in his place, someone touching her would be the last thing she wanted.

"So…" She began, trying to put together her question, "I have to ask-"

"I'm not." He cut her off, finally meeting her eyes. Jules had forgotten what it was like to actually look at him. She'd forgotten how he looked at her.

"Not what?" She asked, furrowing her brow. She didn't know what question he was answering, but it wasn't the one she was about to ask.

"Still in love with Lydia." He said, his voice was solid. "I know what I said and…" He trailed off, looking down at the gear shift. "I was, I think, when we first met, but I don't-"

"Stiles." Jules said, cutting him off.

She didn't know what to think about that, because Jules had grown used to the idea, even before the nogitsune had said it. She had adjusted herself to being second place after Lydia. Despite how much she loved her, Jules had always been her shadow.

"That's not what I was going to ask." Jules said.

He looked back up at her, strangely determined, "I know. But I needed you to know that."

Jules then became too aware of how close his face was to hers and what she was about to say. She leaned back, her stomach in knots. She worried that her vomiting was a very real threat.

"What happened to Erin?" Jules asked. Her voice was so quiet she wasn't even sure if he'd heard her.

She watched, pained as Stiles pressed his lips together, reluctant to answer. He held her gaze.

"You don't need to worry about it." He said with a new edge to his voice. He didn't want questions.

Jules had been afraid of an answer like that, she leaned forward. Her hands shook.

"Stiles." She said, fighting to keep her voice not only steady but audible. "I killed someone." Her eyes burned. "Me." She reiterated. "I did that and I haven't even had time to process it yet." She took a breath, speaking quickly to keep herself from crying. "So yes, I need to worry about it." She hissed.

Stiles grabbed one of her shaking hands. Jules hadn't realized she'd missed that.

"You were defending yourself." He said, his voice also on the verge of breaking. "Okay? It's not like-"

Jules cut him off with a sharp look and said nothing else. She wanted to know what had happened, because someone would notice that Erin was gone and Jules would have to answer for it. She tried not to let the thought crowd her head because Stiles was still looking at her. She wondered briefly if they'd ever feel as normal as they did that night at the blacklight party. Jules could look at him and pretend not to see his exhaustion, his fear. She could pretend that she was an ordinary girl sitting in the car of the boy she liked wondering what would happen next. There were no monsters in this jeep. And for a flickering moment it looked like maybe Stiles was pretending too.

"You should get some sleep." Jules said, popping open her door.

Maybe one day she would feel normal. And she hoped it would be with him.

* * *

Jules had wished Melissa didn't have to leave, now she was stuck roaming an empty house that she didn't live in. Granted, she could have gone with Scott and Stiles to get Meredith. But they hadn't woken her up when they left. Being alone and restless meant spending far too much time inside her own head. Jules' thoughts drifted to New York City, to where her mother was sending her useless updates. She opened her phone, reading through the last few messages.

_**At the courthouse, terrible food.** _

_**Back at the hotel, terrible TV.** _

_**Did you know that toilet paper was invented here?** _

_**Did you ever read the Millennium series? You might like it.** _

Jules had not read that series, and judging from the movie trailer and content of the novels, she would not like it. The past few months of her life had soured Jules' taste for mystery novels. She tossed herself onto the couch, trying to force herself to think of anything that wouldn't make her want to throw up.

_What good things are happening to anyone, anywhere?_

She stared at the ceiling, contemplating assigning herself the task of counting each bump on the popcorn ceiling.

_They launch a rover to Mars next week._

She clucked her tongue.

_Send me to Mars._

Jules shot up as the front door creaked open, panic shot up her spine. She whirled around looking for something, anything, with which to defend herself.

"Jules?" Said a familiar voice.

As she turned around her panic fizzed into loathing. She glared daggers at the FBI agent's tie, not wanting to meet his eyes.

"McCall." She said blandly. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to see Scott." He said, walking towards her. "What are you doing here?" He asked, almost concerned.

"Considering if I should see a movie." Jules said. "What are your thoughts on Daniel Craig?" She asked him sardonically.

"What are you doing in Beacon Hills? You should be in New York." McCall clarified his question.

Jules stared past his head, looking at the refrigerator.

"I was." Jules said, trying not to think about her catastrophic testimony. That after everything she'd gone through, not a single thing she had said in that courtroom mattered. Like most terrible things, those three years hadn't produced a shred of anything decent. Not even a satisfying "fuck you" in the form of a well put together story.

"But the trial is still going on." He said, annoyingly confused.

"It is." She affirmed, feeling like this was another interrogation.

Jules let out a breath of relief as McCall seemed to grasp that she wasn't open to questions, and that he wasn't entitled to answers.

"Where's Scott?" He asked.

Jules shrugged, walking past him into the kitchen. "School? I don't know."

McCall sat down on the couch, making it clear he was going to be waiting for his son. Jules had felt uncomfortable before, it was worse now. She felt like he had her under a microscope. She at herself down at the kitchen table, staring straight ahead as she drummed her fingers on the wood. Was he looking at her? Was he going to try and talk to her? Jules' heart hammered.

_You don't have to say anything to him. You can just sit here silently and pretend he's not there._

She couldn't, and she knew that. Jules could feel him in the room like he was breathing down her neck. She put her head on the table, desperate not to think.

The door swung open and again, Jules nearly jumped out of her skin. She met eyes with Isaac, watching as he looked to McCall and then back to her.

"What?" He mouthed.

Jules shrugged and offered him the seat next to her at the table. He sat down, she leaned closer to him.

"He wants to talk to Scott." She told him.

"He and Stiles found Meredith. They're on their way." Isaac said, his eyes nervously flicking to Scott's father.

Jules nodded, disappointed that each of their attempts to find Lydia were longshots. Jules felt like they were in the eye of a storm, helpless as they watched it rage around them.

"What are we going to do about him?" Isaac asked, shooting McCall a harsh look.

"Don't know. But I can feel him looking at us." She said.

The both turned to glare at McCall. The man stood up and joined them in the kitchen, inspecting a photo on the fridge. Jules and Isaac shared mutual looks of displeasure. Questions from Scott's father, were the last thing they needed.

"Hey Isaac." He said.

Isaac said nothing and instead gave him a petulant look. Jules tried not to smile.

Scott burst through the door, Stiles and the girl who must be Meredith ran in behind him.

"What are you doing here?" Scott asked harshly, staring in shock at his father.

"I could ask you the same thing." McCall replied.

Jules glowered at him.

"Free period." Stiles said. "We're doing a group study."

Jules wondered if he knew how unconvincing he sounded.

"Who's she?" McCall asked, looking at Meredith.

Jules pinched the bridge of her nose as they fell into a moment of uncomfortable silence. Awkwardly, Stiles put his arm around Meredith's shoulders.

"She's my girlfriend." He said, clearly without thinking as McCall's eyes flicked to Jules and then back to Stiles, wearing a look of profound disbelief.

"You're not my type." Meredith said, making matters worse.

Jules stifled a laugh.

"Well, obviously we have a lot to talk about." Stiles said uncomfortably, looking to Meredith. "Maybe we should take this upstairs?"

She was staring at Isaac, "He's my type."

Jules clenched the side of the table, choking down laughter. Stiles didn't look to impressed.

"Okay. Isaac can come too."

With a stupid grin on her face Jules followed them out of the room, she nudged Stiles' shoulder as they climbed the stairs.

"You're a terrible liar." She pointed out.

Stiles glared at her his mouth hung open in mock anger, empty of a response. He scoffed and shoved open the door to Scott's bedroom. Holding her amused gaze.

Jules leaned against the windowsill, watching as Stiles and Meredith began a painful back and forth. Jules didn't remember Meredith, they had never crossed paths in Eichen House. To Jules' surprise, she seemed okay. Meredith lacked the jittery fear and building paranoia that Jules associated with the sanitarium.

_Maybe that was just me._

She watched as Meredith told Stiles Lydia didn't want to be found. Her heart fell. Jules had considered it, that Lydia was making the sacrifice move. The nogitsune was playing a game. Jules used to be alright at chess, she knew that winning meant having a willingness to lose. She buried her face in her hands as Stiles and Isaac came over to her, weighing the options.

"We could make her tell us." Isaac suggested.

Jules narrowed her eyes at him, "Are you for real? How do we know she's not telling the truth?" She asked incredulously.

"I'm just saying-" He began.

"Isaac." Stiles hissed, cutting him off. "We're not going to torture her."

"I meant scare her." Isaac defended himself.

"She's had enough of that in the nuthouse." "We're not going to psychologically torture her either." Stiles and Jules said at the same time, their words blurring together. "No, wait you go-" "What did you say?"

Jules sighed and shut her mouth, looking away from Stiles to try and bear the awkward tension in the room. Isaac looked between them. Her phone buzzed. Jules used it as an excuse to race out of the room. She didn't answer her phone, she didn't even look. Jules knew her mother would realize what time it was and assume Jules was in school. She stepped into the bathroom, quietly shutting the door behind her. Jules' eyes burned as she took a deep breath.

"Fuck." She whispered.

Jules feeling helpless, like she wasn't even a player in her own life. She was just watching the same things unfold over and over again, just with different people and places. She was in an apartment in New York ignoring the sounds from another room. Or she was standing in an almost stranger's living room waiting for someone else to decide her fate. She wasn't in control and she hated it.

Jules took the liberty of splashing cold water on her face and wiping it clean.

_You're fine. Everything will be fine._

Her body ached and Lydia was missing. She was dancing around Stiles in a way that was almost intolerable. Objectively, nothing was going to be fine.

There was a knock on the door; Jules almost screamed.

"We know where Lydia is." Scott said frantically, she could hear him scrambling down the hall.

Jules careened out of the bathroom, her heart pounded. Hope swelled in her chest.

_Get Lydia. Kill the nogitsune. Easy. Yeah?_

* * *

Stiles pressed down on the gas, hoping to occupy the heavy silence of the jeep. His eyes flicked from the road to each person in the car. Scott looked calm, calmer than he should which made Stiles nervous. His hands tensed on the wheel as he tried not to imagine what he would do is Scott broke. He still cried thinking about that night at the motel, and that hadn't really been Scott.

Isaac leaned forward between the front seats, he was infuriatingly indifferent. Stiles knew it couldn't be true, he had to care. He glanced back to Jules to see that she was already looking at him. Stiles wasn't sure how he felt about that.

He turned his attention back to Scott, the one person Stiles knew exactly how to talk to.

"Hey." He said quietly. "You okay?"

Stiles knew it was a bullshit question. None of them were.

"Yeah." Scott said with hollow confidence. "You don't have to worry about me."

Stiles didn't have to look at Jules to know what kind of face she wouldn't have made. Stiles felt the same way, he was always going to worry about him.

"Alright. I'm gonna say it." Isaac said flippantly. "You look like you're dying."

Stiles knew that. Scott whipped around and shot Isaac a look of disbelief.

"You're pale, thin and you look like you're getting worse." Isaac continued. "And we're all sitting here thinking it. When we find the other you is he gonna look like he's getting better?"

"You know the only thing stopping me from punching you is the fact that I have a shred of basic human decency." Jules snapped.

"What happens if he gets hurt?" Scott asked, trying to soften what Isaac had said.

Stiles wondered how he should make it clear he didn't care. This needed to end. Nobody else needed to die.

"You mean if he dies, do I die?" Stiles said, looking briefly towards his best friend. "I don't care."

He felt sick with the fact, with knowing that he had gotten to that point. Stiles kept his eyes on the road, away from them.

"Just so long as no one else dies because of me." He said, fighting to keep his voice steady. That much he would control. "I remember everything I did, Scott. I remember pushing that sword into you. I remember twisting it." His voice cracked and he clenched his hands around the wheel.

"It wasn't you." Scott said steadily.

"Yeah, but I remember it. You guys gotta promise me. You can't let anyone else get hurt because of me." Stiles said, hoping to god he was making himself clear. He looked to the back, Isaac seemed resigned and Jules was seething.

"You can't feel guilty about things that weren't your fault." She said, her voice was heavy and thick with anger.

Stiles kept his eyes ahead, "It's different, you don't-" He began.

"It's not." She pushed herself forward between the front seats, forcing Isaac to the side.

Stiles could feel her staring at him, he wondered how dark her eyes looked, how furious she was. But he kept staring ahead.

"You didn't deserve this! You didn't let this happen!" Her voice cracked but her words her vicious and quick. "You didn't have a choice!" She shouted.

Stiles wondered how many times she had repeated those words to herself. He let his eyes flick to her as she leaned back into her seat, her eyes settling back onto the passing woods. Stiles see that she was biting her lip and blinking too much. He wondered how long it took for her to believe what she'd said. Who had been the first to tell her that?

They fell back into a charged silence and Stiles couldn't think of one thing to say.

* * *

Jules was ready to fly out of the jeep before it had even stopped. She scrambled out just behind Stiles and hit the ground running, ready to throw herself into whatever was waiting. She'd fight an Oni, the nogitsune, Kira's mother. She didn't care. All she wanted was to save Lydia, whatever stood in her way be damned.

They stopped at the gate into Oak Creek, everyone looking to Scott. Jules wondered how he felt about having to give the inspiring speeches.

"We've done this before guys." He said, reassuringly confident. "A couple weeks ago we were standing around just like this and we saved Malia, remember?"

_I remember her father waving a gun around way to close to my head._

Kira looked lost, Jules felt for her.

"That was a total stranger." Scott continued. "This is Lydia."

Jules couldn't help but let her gaze settle on Stiles.

_Do I believe what you said? Are you still in love with her? Would you tell me the truth?_

Her heart lurched with the thought. Jules didn't want it to shake her, she wanted to be able to bear it if he broke her heart.

"I'm here to save my best friend." Allison said solidly, nodding to Jules as she did.

Jules stared at her in momentary awe, heart wrenchingly glad that Lydia had Allison. Allison was the kind of friend Lydia had always needed but Jules had never been, not when she was young. It occurred to Jules that she was better off with Allison around. She was tempering.

"I came to save mine." Scott said, looking at Stiles. Jules felt a pang in her chest.

"I just didn't feel like doing any homework." Isaac stated, both lightning and ruining the mood.

"Dude. We know you care, like, it's okay." Jules said slowly, earning a comically sour gaze from Isaac as he stepped through the gate, the rest of them following.

Scott and Stiles took off running into the old camp, Jules followed them. Her hope had faded into harsh adrenaline as they raced through the abandoned building. Stiles was unsteady, Jules thought back to what Isaac said in the jeep as he tripped and nearly fell. She grabbed his arm, yanking him to his feet before Scott could notice.

"Try not to flail when you run. You look ridiculous." She pointed out, forcing a grin onto her face.

For a moment Stiles looked like he was about to smile and Jules grabbed his hand, intertwining their fingers. They started running again, Jules let him stay a step ahead of her.

_He'll be fine._

His hand was cold.

Scott yelled something and gestured wildly down a corridor. They followed him, stumbling down a narrow staircase. Jules' heart was hammering in her throat.

"Lydia? Are you alright?" Scott shouted as they sprinted at the iron gate. He pulled at the lock, snapping it.

"No. No, no, no, no." She said frantically. "Why are you here?"

Jules swore that if her heart could have stopped then it would.

"Lydia, we're here for you." Stiles said pointedly.

"You weren't supposed to be here." She told them, her voice was almost desperate.

Jules watched as Lydia whispered something to Scott. Her mind was racing with every single reason Lydia, a banshee, a predictor of death, wouldn't want them at Oak Creek. She hadn't brought herself to consider the reasons before.

_Is one of us going to die?_

Jules shook herself free of the thought.

"Lydia what is happening?" Jules heard Scott ask.

Stiles' hand was tight on hers, she could feel his fear. She knew he was thinking that same thing she was.

"Who else is here?" She whispered. "Who came with you? Who else is here?" Her voice climbed to a shout.

Jules let go of Stiles' hand and stepped forward, she pulled Lydia into the corridor.

"Everyone, Lydia." She said, keeping her voice steady. "That's why we're getting you and getting the hell out of here." Lydia nodded, but she didn't look reassured.

Scott began running again, he sprinted ahead of them. Jules pushed Lydia after him and followed her. Stiles was on her heels, Jules could feel it each time he stumbled.

"Lydia… Jules." Stiles called after them as he collapsed against the wall.

In a second Lydia was at his side, Jules stood over them both, watching as Scott disappeared ahead of them.

_Shit. Shit. Shit._

"Jules." Lydia said, her voice was wrought with worry.

Her voice shook Jules out of her head, she yanked off her jacket and pulled it around Stiles' shoulders.

"He's gonna be fine." Jules said, well aware that her voice was shaking and her eyes were shining with tears.

Lydia still nodded, and busied her trembling hands with trying to fastened one of the buttons on the coat to try and keep it on Stiles' shoulders. Jules brought her fingers to Stiles' neck, trying to be afraid of how fast his heart was beating.

_Everything will be fine._

Her face was hot with tears, she felt like she could barely breathe.

"We're going to be fine." She said harshly.

Lydia froze, bracing her hands on the narrow corridor.

"Wha-"

Jules didn't finish, she was cut off by a scream. Jules threw her hands over Stiles' ears and buried her face in his shoulder. It was the first time she'd heard Lydia scream a word, a name. And it was the loudest Lydia's voice had ever been.

_Allison._

Jules was certain she was going to throw up. That couldn't be possible. She'd misheard Lydia.

_Everyone is going to be fine._

She hadn't misheard, she could see the sudden unhindered grief on Lydia face as she slunk to the floor. Jules knew that feeling, she'd felt it before. It didn't make it any easier.

_Allison._

Jules scrambled over Stiles to Lydia's side and pulled her close, letting Lydia's nails dig painfully into her shoulders. She choked down her own sobs as Lydia cried. Lydia cried out her name again.

"Allison."


	32. The Divine Move

**So I was never entirely happy with the final chapter of this story and I've had some to time to revisit and re-write a bit. Also if you don't follow me as an author you might want to, as soon (within the next two weeks probably) I will be posting more content related to Jules and what happens to her after A Friend In the Dark. Not a sequel, that's a lot for me to take on right now, but like some more content here and there. Again thank again everyone for enjoying this and yeah, that's the author note.**

**Chapter 32 - The Divine Move**

* * *

Jules stood next to Lydia, her hand on her friend's shaking shoulder. The sheriff's station bustled around them but they were silent. Jules didn't know what to say, and maybe Lydia knew there was nothing to be said. Allison was dead. There were no words. Jules felt like she had lived this moment before, like her life was on a loop. She was always grieving something, or someone. There was the life she could have had, there was Sara, and now, there was Allison. She had been silent through her interview with Parrish. She didn't want to talk with him or Stilinski or anyone. If anything, Jules just wanted to go home and wake up in a world that didn't have werewolves in it. Or better, she wanted to wake up and be thirteen, angry about a cancelled trip to New York.

Natalie rushed into the room, looking around frantically for Lydia. Lydia shot into her mother's arms, her head buried into her shoulder. Jules shifted her weight and stepped away, that was their moment. Lydia crying to her mother, it didn't feel like something Jules was supposed to see.

A deputy nudged her arm.

"I'm to drive you home." She said.

Jules gave her Kira's address, and she was none the wiser. Jules wasn't going back to her empty house, no matter how much she wanted to. She wanted to sleep and be still and not think. She knew she didn't get to rest, not yet. There was an evil Japanese spirit to deal with **.** Jules didn't want to think about how her life had come to that.

* * *

Stiles was shocked by how fast Kira and her family disappeared from the room when Jules came inside. Her eyes were red; her hands were shoved into her jacket pockets. She'd been crying. Her hands had been shaking.

Jules sat down next to him on the couch, awkwardly far away. She stared at the Go board. Stiles' stomach twisted. He looked at her, trying to ignore the pang in his chest. He knew what he wanted to say but he had no idea where to start. He took a breath. Her eyes flicked to him. Stiles could still hear her shouting at him on their way to Oak Creek.

" _You didn't deserve this! You didn't let this happen!... You didn't have a choice!"_

"Jules."

She looked at him, he almost wished she hadn't.

"Nothing that happened to you was your fault." His voice caught in his throat. "You know that, right?"

Jules looked down at her feet, nodding, more to herself than to him.

"Yeah." Her voice was low. "Do you?"

Stiles looked down at his fidgeting hands. It was so easy for her to read him. He guessed it had been from day one. Jules knew what to say. He didn't, he never did. Stiles' eyes flicked to her and he had to stop himself from imagining what they were talking about, what she'd gone through. He understood that she thought what had happened to him compared, he didn't. It wasn't the same. Some of the blame here was his. He opened the door, didn't he?

"Did you always know that?"

Stiles could almost see her lying awake at night, saying to herself over and over again: "This isn't my fault." How could she have survived otherwise?

Jules scoffed. "No."

She turned to face him, inching closer. Stiles swallowed down his surprise.

_How could she not get that?_

Stiles frowned and felt the sudden urge to snack himself in the face.

"Blaming yourself is the easiest thing to do. You can't be angry at people you can't hurt if all you're angry at is yourself." She said. "You have to unlearn it. It's a whole thing." Jules brought her eyes up to meet his. "There's always shit days and-" She cut herself off.

"What?" Stiles pressed.

Jules sighed. "You're gonna have them and when you do, I can be there. If you want me to be."

Stiles looked back to the board, away from her earnest face. How could she be looking at him like that? He remembered his hands around her throat. He remembered throwing her around like she was nothing, and she was still looking at him like she did before.

"Well that's if-"

"Don't you dare finish that goddamn sentence." Jules snapped as she put her feet up on the table. "Just drink your tea and be happy Deaton didn't make it for you."

Stiles let a smile flicker across his face. "What were you drinking?"

"I don't want to know." She said.

Stiles watched her as she stared ahead. Jules' furious gaze was on the dark street outside. She was turning her phone over and over in her hand. Stiles wished he could think of something to say, something that would distract them both from waiting. Someone would call and tell them what to do or where to go. Someone would tell them how this all would end. He would die. Stiles wasn't surprised, and he wasn't afraid. Though, he'd never really thought about it before. Each time someone had pointed a gun to his head or wrapped a hand around his neck he hadn't seen it coming. Knowing he was dying was different, it was weird. Everyone else knowing he was dying is what made it bad.

"Jules." He said, fighting to keep his voice level.

"Yeah." She said, her eyes still set outside.

Stiles moved closer to her. He wanted to bridge the gap. He wanted whatever it was they had before. It was gone. Another thing about knowing he was dying, everything he had, or would have, was already gone.

"Don't let them try to save me."

He remembered her arms like a vice around his neck. He remembered that she knew what she was doing. She wasn't going to hesitate. Jules would do whatever needed to be done. Stiles trusted that, he had to.

"I mean it." He added.

"I know." She looked at him, her blue eyes were strangely cold. "I won't."

Stiles leaned back into the sofa and stretched his arm out across the top. Jules sat back and Stiles brought his arm down around her shoulders. They lapsed into silence; both of their eyes on the board.

* * *

Jules stepped out of the jeep; the freezing night air biting at her skin. She looked up at her school. How many times had she almost died here? Maybe it was just the one time. But once was enough. She frowned. Being tied up and beaten by the Darach felt like forever ago, but what had it really been? Six weeks?

Stiles clambered out behind her, his hand was on her shoulder to steady himself. He was heavy; she and Lydia needed to support his weight together as they raced to the door. Jules' heart hammered with terror. She didn't want to die. Her life, the one she deserved, the one she'd almost lost, was right in front of her, just on the other side of this. If she could make it, if everyone could make it, they'd be fine. Her breath got stuck in her throat. Allison hadn't made it. Jules was sure Allison might have been the strongest person she knew, and if she died, what chance did Jules have? Her eyes flicked to Stiles' pale face. He was dying. He'd already lost too.

"Scott, hold on." He said as they got to the door.

Scott froze, looking at him with his heart on his sleeve. Lydia grabbed Jules' hand behind Stiles' back and squeezed. Her fingers were trembling.

"I know what you're all thinking." Stiles continued. "If this works, it might kill me too. But even if it does, you just have to go through with it. Stick with the plan, okay?"

Jules looked away from him and Scott, and down to Kira's feet. Stiles sounded stronger than he had in days. He meant it. She knew how much he meant it.

"The plan is to save you." Scott said with more hope than any of them had. "That's the plan I'm going with."

Jules marvelled at him. Stiles glanced down at her and back up to Scott as Scott pushed open the doors. She wasn't sure what she would or could do to stop Scott from choosing saving Stiles over stopping the nogistune, but she'd think some something. She always did.

The doors swung open to a snow covered garden. Jules sighed.

_You're fucking kidding me._

There were no more lockers or classrooms, just a simple garden that might have been pretty on a different day. As the five of them stepped forwards the doors creaked shut, locking them inside. Kira's sword knocked into Jules' side as she turned. Stiles took another step forwards, away from Lydia and Jules.

"Oh, this is definitely not part of the plan."

Jules put her hand on Lydia's shivering shoulder as snow began to fall. The flakes stung her skin. The last snow she'd seen had been in New York, and she never planned on seeing it again.

Shuffling footsteps came from around the corner, disturbing the still garden. A large figure stepped under the archway, wrapped in gauze. It was the same creature from the inside of Stiles' mind. It was the nogistune's true face, and to her horror, it didn't have one.

"Like I promised, Stiles." It said as it walked towards them.

Kira drew her sword. Jules didn't know what else to do but inch closer to Stiles and watch the creature in shock.

"We're going to kill all of them." It roared. "One by one."

The Oni materialized around them. Jules avoided their sickly green gaze.

"What the hell is this? Where are we?" Scott asked, unable to mask his fear.

"Between life and death." It answered.

"Bardo." Lydia said.

"Bullshit." Jules corrected, looking around, frantically searching for a sign of real life. Jules had her lines of reality drawn clearly in the sand, this couldn't be it.

"But there are no peaceful deities here, Lydia." It chastised. "You're dying Stiles." It said as it turned its head to him. "And now everyone you care about is dying to."

Stiles took another small step away from Jules and Lydia, "What? What do you mean?"

"I've captured almost all the territories on the board, Stiles." It began to pace as the Oni stepped closer. "The hospital. The sheriff's station. And now the animal clinic."

Jules stubbornly grabbed his hand. As if she could do anything to stop him from hearing what the nogitsune was saying. They had lost. They were always going to.

It stepped closer. "Do you know the ritual of Seppuku, Stiles?"

"No, and I don't want to." He said.

Stiles and Lydia stepped back, Jules stayed where she was, the nogitsune came closer. Stile's hand was cold inside of her own.

"When a samurai disembowels himself with his own sword to maintain his honor, but that's not the cut that kills him." It said.

Jules looked to Lydia, her friend had never been angrier. She recognized that look, it was the look you gave the thing that killed someone you loved.

"The killing stroke is made by his kaishakunin, who beheads the samurai with his own katana." It pointed to Scott. "Scott. Scott is your kaishakunin." The nogitsune growled. "I'm going to make your best friend kill you, Stiles. And you're going to let him. Because just like you, they're all going to die. Everyone touched by an Oni's blade." It came closer, inches from their faces. "Unless, Scott kills you first."

Jules eyed Kira's tight grip on her sword. She wondered if she could do it. How much time would it take? Who would be the first to move to stop her? Was Stiles really sure? Jules had a bitter taste in her mouth. He must have been. She knew what it was like to feel so guilty that being dead didn't seem like a bad idea. She also knew that Stiles would die for them. If he thought there was the smallest chance it would spare them, he would take it.

"Why? Why are you doing this?" Stiles asked, leaning forward. It was Lydia holding him back. Jules didn't think she could anymore.

"To win the game."

Before Jules could react the Oni raised their swords. She moved to shove Stiles and Lydia away but they were already backing up. The three of them dove to the ground, their eyes on the chaos unfolding in front of them. Scott and Kira were fighting for their lives, and they were crouched in the snow. The nogitsune was watching too, standing safely out of the fray.

"This can't be real." Lydia said.

"Yeah, tell that to them." Stiles shot back.

Kira's sword fell from her hands. The Oni had backed her into a corner. Jules lunged for the fallen weapon and scrambled to her feet. Stiles outstretched his hand. Jules met his eyes. He was steady. He, despite his wild gesturing and his words that fell out of his mouth, was always steady. He always had a plan and this was it. Jules made the mistake of letting her eyes drift to Lydia's horrified and furious face. She looked away and kept her word. Jules handed Stiles the sword. She didn't let her eyes drop from his. Words died on her lips as she did it, as he held the blade to his stomach. What could she say? She thought of something, but it didn't matter now.

"Stiles, no!" Scott shouted. His voice was raw.

Jules tried not to flinch. Allison's body wasn't cold, and Stiles too, the other person he loved most in the world, was about to die.

"Stiles!" Scott screamed again.

Lydia was silent. Jules didn't want to fathom what she was thinking. Her eyes were on Stiles' shaking hands and she could only think about what she had said she'd do.

"What if it saves you? What if it saves all of you?" Stiles asked, looking desperately to each of them.

He didn't want to do this. Jules knew that somewhere, probably not very deep down, he wanted to live.

"What if it's just another trick?" Lydia pleaded.

"No more tricks, Lydia." The nogitsune said. "End it Scott. Let your friend fall on his own sword. Do for him what he cannot do for himself." It goaded. "Do it, Scott. Be his kaishakunin. Give up the game."

Jules took a step closer to Stiles as he tightened his grip on the sword. Scott wasn't going to do this, how could he? It would have to be her. Jules' hands shook like his did. She wanted to ask him what she should do, did he want her help? Could she do that? For a moment Jules let herself imagine it. She saw herself driving the sword down. It would be a lot harder than it looked in the movies. There would be a lot of blood, bright red on the snow. Her eyes burned. Stiles froze. For a moment the world stood still.

"You have no moves left." The nogitsune said.

Jules could see Stiles looking around, looking for one last chance. There was nothing. She took a step closer to him. She said she'd do this.

Stiles brought the sword away from his stomach and Jules let him. She followed his eyes to a collection of bushes. There was a textbook, peeking out of the snow. For a brief moment Jules smiled.

"I do." Stiles said and threw Kira her sword. "A divine move."

* * *

The five of them burst through the doors. Jules clutched her side. She wasn't bleeding, none of them were. But the pain had been real, and blood or no blood, it was the pain that mattered.

"We're okay." Scott said, baffled. "We're-"

The nogistune, wearing Stiles' face, cut him off. It had come out of nowhere. It threw Scott into the lockers and struck Kira to the floor. Her sword clattered against the tile. Lydia, Jules and Stiles jerked back.

"This was my game." He spat and turned to them. "You think you can beat me at my game?"

They backed away from it; Stiles' hand was in hers. She felt numb. This was it. This had to be it. Scott and Kira lay unmoving at the end of the hall. Their plan was unconscious.

"Divine move." The nogitsune said. "Divine move. You think you have any moves at all? You can kill the Oni, but me? Me? I'm a thousand years old. You can't kill me!" It roared.

Jules thought about lunging at him, just out of spite. Alison was dead, Stiles was dying and they were all about to die too.

"But we can change you." Lydia said, fighting the fear in her voice.

Scott stirred. Kira was pushing herself off of the ground and silently reaching for her sword.

The nogitsune froze. "What?"

Scott had stood up. He was creeping down the hall with a look on his face that Jules had never seen before, and never wanted to see again. He was going to kill the nogitsune, or he was going to die trying. Kira was right behind him with a white knuckled grip on her katana. Hope flickered in her chest, painful and at the moment, unwelcome.

"You forgot about the scroll." Stiles said.

"The Shugendo scroll." Lydia clarified.

Jules watched as his face changed, the nogitsune looked afraid. She couldn't help but let a small smile break out onto her face. If any two people were going to outsmart an ancient evil deity, it was Stiles Stilinski and Lydia Martin.

"Change the host." It said.

"You can't be a fox and a wolf." Stiles said. His voice was low.

Scott grabbed the nogitsune and sunk his teeth into its arm. It roared in pain and fury. Thunder rolled overhead as Kira drove her sword through its chest. The nogitsune crumpled to its knees as a fly flew out of its throat. Jules jerked away from it.

Isaac stepped into the hallway and caught the insect in a box, looking incredible smug. The nogitsune choked and fell, dissipating into dust.

"That's it?" Jules stared at the space where he had been. "That's all we're gonna get?"

No one said anything. Stiles' hand slipped from hers as he crumbled to the floor. Jules' heart shot up into her throat. They could still lose.

"No, no, no, no, no." She muttered to herself as she brought her trembling hands to his neck.

Stiles' was beating, the same as always. She dropped her head down onto his chest, trying to hide the tears welling in her eyes.

"Oh god, I fainted didn't I?" Stiles said.

Jules didn't move from where she was. She felt his hand go to the back of her head, his fingers tangled into her hair. Hope in her chest, it hurt, it always hurt. But for the first time in a while, Jules was happy to let it stay.

"We're alive." He said. "We're all alive?"

Scott nodded. "Yeah." He said, though they all knew it wasn't true. "We're okay."

Jules didn't say anything through her stupid smile.

Lydia got to her feet. The relief had fallen from her face. She turned and sprinted for the doors, throwing them open and racing outside. Jules le t go of Stiles and tore after her. Stiles, Kira and Scott were close behind.

Lydia stood frozen at the top of the steps, shaking in the frigid air. Aiden lay on the pavement. He was in his brother's arms. Lydia threw her arms around Jules as she came up beside her. Jules held Lydia as tightly as she could and forced herself to look away from the twins. There was nothing she could think to say. Lydia had lost two people she'd loved in the span of two days. All Jules could do was try and hold her even tighter. Her brief moment of happiness was gone. They'd won, but there was so much they'd lost.

* * *

Stiles had forgotten what it felt like for time to move both agonizingly slow and stupidly fast. It had been the same after his mother had died. Some things went by in a blur, and others were painfully clear. Placing a rose in Allison's grave and knowing she wouldn't be dead if it weren't for him was clear. Burying Aiden near the Hale house felt like a dream. That can't have happened. But it had. Ethan and Scott and Derek had dug up the ground. Hell, Isaac might have helped out. Ethan left town after that, Stiles hadn't said goodbye and maybe that was for the best. A few days later Chris Argent left and took Isaac with him. Stiles remembered telling Isaac that he'd "kinda miss his dumbass scarves." He also remembered that Chris wouldn't look at him.

Scott had been spending much of his time working with Malia, giving Stiles the space he asked for. Stiles knew he probably shouldn't have wanted it; he probably shouldn't be sitting in his room spending all of his time taking down and organizing his wall of insanity. That was no way to spend Christmas break, and it wasn't much of a coping mechanism either. Lydia and been Kira had been trying hard to humanize Malia, and he knew Jules was staying as far away from that as she could. She'd been spending most of her time with her family, now that her parents were back from New York.

A knock on his door nearly sent Stiles leaping out of his skin. He was jumpier now, more than ever.

"Yeah?" He said, not looking up from his punctured photo of Eichen house.

"It's me." Her voice was muffled through the door but he'd recognize anywhere. "Your dad let me in."

Of course he had. His father had been dragging him on every errand, and roping him into small talk with every person they met. Stiles knew he was trying to make things feel normal. But Stiles wasn't sure what his normal was supposed to be.

"Yeah." Stiles said.

Jules pushed open his door and Stiles set down the picture. He looked up at her and she stayed in the doorway. One hand was on her hip. She didn't have a single scratch or bruise anymore, the only thing that was cut was her hair. It now fell to her shoulders, and it seemed curlier than before. Stiles didn't know when she'd done that. It had been long at the funeral. He would know. Jules was one of the few people Stiles had been able to bear looking at.

Wordlessly, Jules crossed his room and yanked open his curtains.

"Hey, you're ruining the ambiance." He said.

"Am I?" Jules narrowed her eyes at him. "Shame." She mused.

Stiles fidgeted his hands while she kept staring at him, looking oddly hopeful. He didn't know what to say or what she wanted him to say. Stiles didn't understand how everything around them had changed and she still seemed steady.

Stiles watched as Jules made eye contact with him and then forced open his window.

"Jesus Christ." He muttered. "It's cold out."

Jules folded her arms over her chest. "You know Jesus isn't my thing."

"Jules." Stiles sighed. "What are you doing here?" He asked as he stepped towards his window and pulled it closed.

She glowered at him. "You need air. You're not twelve; you can't fester alone in your bedroom."

Stiles locked his window and avoided her heavy gaze. With a sigh Jules sat down on his bed. He heard the box spring creek under her weight. Stiles could feel her eyes burning a hole into his back, but he didn't turn around.

"Stiles." She said steadily. "If no one makes you move then you're not going to."

He knew she was speaking from experience. He knew she was right.

"Look, I'm going to be fine I just need-"

"Time." Jules cut him off sharply. "You've had three weeks of uninterrupted angst. It's done now."

"Okay." Stiles turned around and shot her a glare. "That's not what I've been doing."

Jules prodded a box filled with notes and newspaper clippings with her foot.

"Sorry." She said. "You've had three weeks of uninterrupted time to ponder your possession induced detective work, à la A Beautiful Mind."

Jules' voice was sharp. It usually was, but she was looking at him like she always did: like she loved him. She wasn't angry, she was rested and calm and fine. Stiles wished she was yelling at him, he didn't know about what, but he felt like that might be easier to understand. Instead Jules was meeting his anger with empathy, with the right thing. She was always coming at him with the right thing. He didn't know when that would stop. And he was sure it would have to stop eventually.

"Jules, what do you want?"

She stood up. "I need to run an errand, and I need a ride."

"That's it?" He asked, incredulous.

"That's it." She said. "There's also a good movie playing tonight, if you're interested."

Of course Stiles was interested. Stiles would be thrilled to chauffer Jules around for as long as she'd let him. Which was why he didn't want to go anywhere with her. In fact, he wanted her to leave. The longer Jules was with him, the more chance there was that she'd bring up the fact that they were almost together. Stiles wanted to pretend for as long as he could that she wasn't about to back away. But she would, who wouldn't? Jules had three weeks to think and cut her hair and heal all the wounds he gave her. Stiles couldn't imagine her wanting to pick up where they had been at the blacklight party. She had held his hand when he was dying and was happy that he was alive. But it was over, how could it not be? He wouldn't date him. Stiles just didn't want to hear her say it, not yet.

He cleared his throat, "Lydia couldn't give you a ride?"

Jules grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair and handed it to him. "Didn't ask. She and Kira are giving Malia fashion lessons or something, but Kira and Lydia dress so differently I have no idea how that's gonna go."

Stiles let out a short laugh. "You're passing up the opportunity to throw a wrench into that, to run errands with me?"

Jules smiled and stepped towards his door, "Malia will figure out on her own that the only thing she will ever need is a decent jacket."

Stiles picked up his car keys. He hadn't touched them in weeks. He stepped away from his window. Stiles knew he had to brace himself.

"You're sure?" He asked. "You shouldn't feel like you have to-"

"No." She cut him off. "I walked all the way to your house in the freezing cold because I hadn't made up my mind. Spot fucking on."

Stiles sighed and a smile tugged at his lips. His twirled his keys around in his hands. Jules was standing in the doorway waiting for him.

Stiles toyed with his keys, feeling stupid.

"Jules." He could fell her looking at him. Stiles sighed. "Is this a date?"

"I'm getting a tattoo removed." She said. "That's a shit date."

Stiles looked up at her, for a moment her face had fallen. He didn't know she had a tattoo. He probably wasn't supposed to have known.

"But," She said, smiling at him, "we could go on one that wouldn't suck, if you wanted."

Stiles kept twirling his keys around in his hands. "What's the movie we're seeing?"

Jules let out a small laugh and extended her hand, and eagerly, Stiles took it.


End file.
